As You Wish
by LadyWallace
Summary: A hunt goes wrong, leaving Castiel in a coma so Meg decides to read to him.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this was a story that I wrote over a long weekend because it just randomly popped into my head and wouldn't let me go, all because I decided to re-read _The Princess Bride._ It's honestly one of my favorite books/movies and for some reason the idea of crossing it over with SPN and giving it a Megstiel flair appealed to me. So that's what happened. **

**Now it's not a total parody/crossover because it really all just happens in Cas' head while he's unconscious, but you get the picture.**

 **For setting purposes, this is in the same universe as my story "Worth Fighting For" but you definitely don't have to have read that story, really it's just a way to explain how Meg is living in the bunker as a part of TFW in a S8 timeline. (And this story kinda acts as a fun interlude between that story and the eventual sequel I have planned)**

 **Also, special thanks to Aini-NuFire for being my test subject for this story to make sure it wasn't completely ridiculous :P**

 **And as you can probably imagine, some lines in this story are taken from The Princess Bride, both the book and the movie, which is copyright William Goldman. Some other lines from Supernatural might also appear.**

 **And without further ado, here we go:**

As You Wish

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

Meg and the Winchesters hovered over the bed, worry filling the room like a dark cloud. They had just made their way back to the bunker after a grueling hunt, and gotten Cas comfortable and situated into his bed, but it didn't make them feel much better. Not when their friend hadn't shown any indication of waking up.

"I'm sure he'll be fine once he sleeps it off," Sam offered weakly after a long moment. "There's no indication that he's in pain or anything, just…" he shrugged, motioning helplessly at the comatose angel.

"Idiot," Dean shook his head and Sam cast him a disapproving look.

"I'm inclined to agree," Meg said, folding her arms over her chest, trying to hide most of her worry. "I'd be willing to call him suicidal if I knew his heart wasn't in the right place."

Sam gave her a wry smile. "He did save your life."

"At the possible risk of his own," Meg retorted.

"Yeah, well, that's what Cas does," Dean muttered, but there was admiration in his voice as well as care. "Even though he can be a stupid SOB on occasion."

Meg was still getting over the shock of the fight. They had been going up against an extremely powerful witch, and she had thrown a spell at Meg as soon as she found out she was a demon. Meg had no doubt that the spell would have killed he outright, but Castiel, her stupid angel, had of course jumped in front of her at the last moment. And that was how they had gotten here. Cas in a coma without any sign of waking up.

"I'm going to go see if I can find anything on the spell the witch used," Sam said. "Maybe we can figure out how to break him out of this, or maybe there's some kind of antidote or counter spell or something."

Dean and Meg stayed behind, standing shoulder to shoulder, both unsure of what to do.

Meg finally took initiative and pulled the chair from the desk and sat down in it. "We can take turns watching over him. Someone should be here when he wakes up."

Dean nodded but bit his lip a bit hesitantly. Meg knew he wasn't just going to relax so she said, "I wouldn't mind some coffee. And I bet Sam could use another set of eyes."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her for a moment but then nodded in acquiescence. "Fine. But let me know if he wakes up."

Meg didn't say it as Dean walked out the door, but she had a feeling Cas wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.

With that realization, she quickly retreated to grab something out of her room before returning to Cas' bedside, and sat down with a tattered paperback in her hands.

"Alright, Clarence," she said. "Maybe this will get your head into gear a little better. And while we're at it, you're going to get a much-needed crash course in pop culture."

She gave a fond glance down at the book, one of her personal favorites: _The Princess Bride._ She'd kept a copy with her for as long as she'd been topside. A constant companion; she didn't know how many times she had read it. Yeah, it was sappy, but hell, she'd given up pretending she wasn't a hopeless romantic a long time ago.

Even now she had the vague hope that this book that had brought her comfort over the years before she had joined up with Cas and the Winchesters, would bring her angel back to her. She really had gone soft, dammit.

After studying Cas' still figure for another long minute, she flipped to the first page and began to read.

* * *

 _Castiel swam through the darkness. Everything was confusion, he truly didn't know what had happened, and with a sudden panic, found himself unable to surface. Unable to get out of this oblivion._

 _He tried to claw his way out of the dark prison he was trapped in, but was unable to move, and unable even to call out._

 _And then he became aware of a voice, steady, calming, familiar. It was painting a picture, telling a story, and Castiel instantly latched onto it, focusing on that at his anchor, and suddenly he felt not so alone in this dark prison. He simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. The voice painted a picture, a whole different universe, and with nowhere else to go, he fell into it gladly._

* * *

 _Once upon a time, there was an angel and a demon_. They lived in the same village and saw each other often, for the angel helped to tend the demon's farm from time to time, and sometimes, she would offer him milk and produce for his labors. The angel was no one of consequence, for long ago, he had forsaken the ways of Heaven, finding it corrupt, and had chosen rather to live a quiet existence among the humans. The demon, likewise, had left her kind and lived a mortal life on a farm, quiet and away from everyone.

In fact, her only true companion was the angel. His name was Castiel, but she only ever called him Clarence.

Their interactions would usually go as such:

"Clarence, the cows are not giving milk, would you have a look at them?"

"As you wish," the angel would reply.

"Clarence, my horse is in poor spirits, could you coax him to behave?"

"As you wish."

"The plants in my garden aren't yielding fruit, Clarence, try to fix them."

"As you wish."

That was all he would ever reply. He never said much of anything, and that was perhaps one of the reasons the demon (who's name was Meg) enjoyed his company so much. Of course she would never admit that she enjoyed his company at all. In fact, to hide, it, she teased him constantly, was possibly even a little abusive. Sometimes she set him impossible tasks, sure that one day he would refuse, but he only ever said "As you wish," and he somehow always accomplished them.

Eventually, Meg found that any time away from the angel was empty, and she began to crave his presence when he came to visit her every other day. Then she began to find his absence excruciating and simply began asking him to do tasks she had no need of him for, just to see him again. The requests became more and more frequent, and more and more ridiculous in their simplicity, but the angel was always there.

"Clarence, polish my horse's saddle. I can't stand to get it on my hands."

"As you wish."

"Clarence, the cows like it better when you milk them."

"As you wish."

"If you would, Clarence, sweep the floor, you've tracked most of the dirt in anyway."

"As you wish."

The secret she didn't even want to admit to herself, of course, was that she only made these things up because she didn't want him to leave. In fact, the longer she lived among the humans and saw their companionship with each other, the more she realized that she was only truly afraid of being alone.

And then she thought that perhaps her angel would leave her too if she continued to ask him to do these ridiculous things, that he would finally snap and tell her off. So she stopped for a day, and it was almost agony. So much so, that by the end of it she stood on the hill overlooking her farm, watching the sunset, every fiber of her being screaming at her to go and find her angel before it was too late. But just when she thought that he might never show up again, there he was, standing beside her. This was, of course, the first time he had ever come without her calling him first, and so he surprised her, and also filled her with something she didn't quite dare believe in: hope.

"Clarence," she breathed, watching him. "I didn't call you."

"I know," he replied, but there was a knowing light in his eyes, and damn him, he knew well enough that she had been thinking about him all day. They stood like that for a long moment until he finally shifted. "I can leave."

"No," she said quickly, then softer. "No, stay, please." This was also the first time she had ever said please to him. To anyone.

He turned to her and looked her in the eye. "As you wish," he said.

And it was then, looking into the angel's eyes and seeing the pureness of his very soul, reading every thought in his mind, that Meg came to the realization that the entire time he had actually been saying 'I love you.'

"Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he replied and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

XXX

 _Castiel told Meg then that he was leaving_. But that she shouldn't worry, because he would be back before she knew it, and he would have a home set up for them.

"I'll build it myself," he promised. "I will work among the humans, earn money, and I will buy land, and I will build a house, somewhere far away and quiet, and we can live there in peace for the rest of our very long lives."

And Meg wanted nothing more than that, so, even though it tore her apart to think of being away from him, with one final farewell kiss, she let him go.

Fool that she was, she let him go.

It was not a year later that Lucifer, the prince, having taken over the kingdom after his father's long absence, sent his demon hoards to quell the rebellions that were rising all over the land. Rebel factions were rising up at the tyranny Lucifer wrought upon the kingdom, with his faithful general, the Yellow-Eyed Demon Azazel, by his side.

During this time, Meg laid low, for she was a deserter in the eyes of other demons, and wanted nothing to do with the inevitable coming war. She anxiously waited for news from Castiel, hoping that he had found a quiet place in a distant land that was untouched by Lucifer and his demons. Somewhere they could wait out this war and not have to fight again as they once had. They had both run away from that life for a reason, they wanted nothing else to do with it.

But when news came, it was not the news she had been waiting for.

There was a letter that came to her door one day, from a witness who had somehow survived, telling her that Castiel had been on a ship bound for a distant land, but the captain had been a suspected rebel and Lucifer's demons had been sent out to attack the ship. There were no survivors, not even the angel who Meg had fallen unconditionally in love with.

The words on the paper dimmed and the letter fell from her hand as she read those words. She didn't cry, she was too far beyond grief for that; she simply sat in her farmhouse for days without moving, leaving her farm untended. She thought vaguely of killing herself, but Castiel would never want that. And it was the thought of him that finally brought her out of her funk and got her back on her feet.

She decided that if she could not have him, then she would simply see their dream a reality by getting as far away from Lucifer's kingdom as she could, and living out the rest of her days in what little peace she could imagine.

So she got up, put on clean clothes, and left, heading into town with the intention of selling the farm. She had no wish to ever see it again. It held all of the only good memories she had left and because of that, it caused her too much pain.

She never got that far however, because the instant she started down the path to town, a caravan of horses thundered down the road. She quickly leapt to one side, but heard a loud "Halt!" and the group came to a thundering stop right beside her.

That was when she looked up and saw Prince Lucifer himself, on his white steed, his faithful Azazel at his shoulder.

"My lord," the yellow-eyed demon asked. "Why do you stop?"

"Why, to admire true beauty," Lucifer said as his eyes fell on Meg. "Would you not agree, General?"

Azazel glanced down at her, and Meg felt her hands clench at her sides. Azazel's eerie eyes bored into her. She had once served under him, a long time ago, and hoped that he didn't remember her, just a lowly demon soldier.

"She is a demon, your majesty," Azazel sniffed. "Likely a deserter too."

"No, she is far more than that," Lucifer said and startled her by dismounting, coming to stand over her in an almost threatening pose that belied the smile on his face.

"Pray what is your name, my lady?" he asked.

"Meg," she told him, nothing to lose.

Lucifer took her hand in his before bowing over it and pressing his lips to it. Meg wasn't sure whether to be surprised or disgusted.

"Lady Meg," he said eloquently. "It is a pleasure. Tell me, are you married, do you have a lover?"

Meg's eyes were steely as she firmly took her hand from Lucifer's. "The only man I've ever loved is dead. And I will never love again."

Lucifer smiled at her, not kindly, not patronizingly, just knowingly. "Ah, I see. Lady Meg, I know this might seem distasteful, but the people, they need someone approachable. Someone who will gain their trust and bring them back under rule. I am looking for a queen with a presence who can accomplish that. You have a presence, my lady. I could not help but stop on the road when I saw you. Azazel says you are a deserter, I believe that must be the truth, but the people never need know that. So I will offer you an alternative to the death you deserve." He leaned in close, making Meg's skin crawl. "Be my queen."

Meg closed her eyes. Her first reaction was obviously to say no. But then, she considered. She would be in the palace with the Prince himself; if she were so inclined she could end the oppression of the kingdom herself. She had done more horrible things to people more innocent in the past. And though, as of now, she had no way to kill Lucifer, she would have plenty of time to figure out a way to do so.

Perhaps, it was meant to be. After all, she had lost Castiel because of this rebellion and she could hardly pass up this opportunity to end it given the chance; to make sure no one else had to lose anyone over it.

So though it went against everything she wanted, she opened her eyes and said, "I will never love you."

Lucifer seemed amused. "I never said you had to. Love is for the weak. The powerful know to cut that out first."

And that, Meg knew was how she would destroy him. Because having loved and lost herself, she knew the secret: that it only made you stronger.

"Then I'll do it," she told him.

Lucifer nodded and pulled her up behind him on his horse, gaining a disapproving look from Azazel before they were galloping back to the castle and Meg was truly wondering what she had just agreed to.

* * *

 _Dean peeked his head into the room, and Meg stopped reading as he brought her a cup of coffee._ He glanced over at Cas, seeing that there was no change in his condition.

Meg set the book aside for the moment to take the mug from Dean. "Thank you."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the book, she had propped open over her knee. " _The Princess Bride?_ "

Meg cast him a glance. "What? You think demons can't enjoy the classics?"

Dean shrugged, looking a little chastened. "No, it's just…I don't know." He scratched behind his head in the way Meg had noticed he did when he was trying to change the subject.

"I thought reading to him might help," she said. "At least maybe if he can hear us, it will let him know he's safe. Who knows what might be going on in his head."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," Dean muttered.

"You and Sam find anything promising yet?"

Dean huffed a sigh and shook his head. "No. We don't even really know what to look for. It's gonna be a long night."

"Well, I've got this, so you two go do the research thing," Meg told him.

Dean looked slightly hesitant, but Meg nudged him with one foot as she picked up the book again. "I'll let you know if anything changes."

Dean nodded and finally left the room.

Meg picked up where she had left off, her voice once again filling the small room.

* * *

 _For the next couple weeks, Meg was the unofficial betrothed princess to Lucifer._ He had given her the title so that the nobles wouldn't complain. Of course, anyone who complained about Lucifer usually didn't last long enough to give much of an opinion anyway, and frankly, she couldn't care less. This had become a mission for her now. Though at this point, she was really just learning the ways of the court. Azazel certainly didn't trust her, and he kept an almost constant watch on her. So much so that she had to watch her back every minute of every day, and keep any planning she did of the utmost secret. But she would endure. She had to, otherwise she felt that Castiel's death would be for nothing.

Then came the day when Lucifer would make the official announcement to the people of the kingdom about their coming marriage, and his inevitable kingship. He brought her to the top of the castle, overlooking the square where any people in the near vicinity had been rounded up and herded into the castle courtyard to hear the announcement and tremble at the might of Lucifer, their prince.

"My people," Lucifer said, holding his hands out as if about to embrace them, even though he had to know how much the people hated him. "Two months from now our country will celebrate its five hundredth anniversary. And to commemorate that day, I will wed the lovely Princess Meg."

Here he pulled her forward to present her to the crowd. There was applause, but Meg knew it was mostly for show, so no one would get dragged away and beaten, or worse. Lucifer waited for the noise to die down before he continued.

"I will soon have need of a woman I can trust by my side," Lucifer said. "I know it is no mystery to any of you that my father has…disappeared. Without any knowledge of whether he will be back or not, I must do what is right for my kingdom. And so the decision has been made, that on the anniversary of our kingdom's founding, the day after the Princess and I are to be married, the coronation will also be held to make us King, and Queen."

Murmurs went through the crowd, until several of the guards took their spear poles to the people and they began to clap politely at best.

Lucifer turned to Meg. "We begin the public relations now. Let us walk through the crowd."

He led her down the steps to the courtyard, Azazel and his highest guards standing close, and stopped at the gates to tuck Meg's arm in his elbow.

"Smile, darling," Lucifer told her with a smile himself that was all cold eyes.

Meg glowered back, but as soon as the door opened, she did give the townspeople a genuine smile, trying to convey to them that she was not, in fact, with Lucifer, but rather with them, if anyone.

They seemed to see something in her eyes, because they all watched her, rapt, as they parted to let the betrothed couple wander through the crowd. Lucifer slipped a purse into Meg's hand and she passed out coins like she was expected to.

She felt eyes on her back then, and turned just in time to see a short, well-dressed figure disappear into the crowd, two taller, cloaked figures, following close behind.

She hadn't realized she had stopped until Lucifer tugged her arm.

"Something the matter, Princess?" he hissed with a hint of warning.

Meg shook herself and renewed the smile. "Nothing at all, my lord."

Lucifer steered her through the crowd then, and she missed entirely the second figure watching her. But he would have been easy to miss, for he was wearing all black and stood off in the shadows to one side of the square. Even the demon guards missed him.

But he only had eyes for the Princess.

XXX

 _Meg spent the next few weeks suffering through the interminable planning of the kingdom's anniversary, and of the wedding_. The guest lists, the menu planners, the seamstresses who were hired to make her spectacularly ridiculous dresses.

And then her own planning that she did when she finally had a minute to herself late into the night. Recording every movement of every guard down to the minute. Every servant in the house. Lucifer's habits, Azazel's habits. All the passages in the palace, and the surrounding grounds. The mysterious underground prison that was run by Lucifer's chief torturer, Alastair, and had been appropriately termed 'The Pit of Despair'. She hadn't ventured there yet, but at some point during each day, there would almost certainly be screams from some poor soul that had been pegged as a rebel coming from that direction. Meg well knew her fate if she was ever found out, and she knew it wouldn't be quick.

But she did still manage to get out of the castle sometimes, alone, to ride in the countryside, and it was only in these moments, she allowed herself the freedom to think of Castiel and what could have been.

And it was because she was thinking of her lost angel, that she completely missed the man who was standing in the middle of the road until she was almost on top of him. Her horse reared and the man threw up his hands.

"My lady, please, a moment of your time," he said.

"What do you want?" she demanded shortly. He was young, tall, and dressed in commoners' clothes.

He didn't reply, just looked past her shoulder. Meg spun to look as well, and saw a much shorter man, in a well-tailored suit standing there, with his hands in his pockets.

"Hello, darling," he said.

A sack was thrown over Meg's head then as she was dragged from the horse. She struggled as she felt two men trying to restrain her, and got a few kicks in, hearing their curses.

"Just knock her out, she'll be less trouble," came an annoyed voice from further away—the short, well-dressed man.

"Wait!" she grunted but it was too late. Something struck her head and she was left in oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**On to chapter 2! Thanks to everyone who has read and followed this so far.**

 **Also, I will be posting a oneshot wednesday so keep an eye out for that :)**

Chapter Two

Meg paused in the story, glancing over at the comatose angel. She thought she had seen him twitch, but maybe she was wrong. She reached out to brush the hair from his forehead, frowning as she felt he was slightly clammy, but he wasn't so hot she had to worry yet either, so she would just wait and see how it turned out for now.

The door, which had been cracked already, opened and Sam peeked in.

"Hey, how's he doing?" he asked, concerned eyes glancing over to Cas.

"Nothing much has changed," Meg said.

Sam nodded to the book in her lap. "Reading to him is good though. It will keep his brain active."

"If he can hear me anyway," Meg sighed.

Sam gave her a small smile. "I bet he can."

"Any progress with the research?"

The hunter shook his head. "No. Dean sent me to get a couple hours, but if you need me to spell you, I can sit in here for a while."

"I'm okay," Meg told him. "I'll let you know if I need anything, or if he wakes up."

"Sure," Sam said, and slipped out of the room.

Meg glanced toward her angel one more time, wishing he would simply open those blue eyes and be done with it, but unfortunately it didn't look like that was going to happen today.

"You really do like to take your time, don't you, Clarence?" she said wryly. Then, when she still didn't get an answer, she turned back to the book and continued reading.

* * *

 _Meg woke to the rocking sensation of a boat_. She still had the hood over her head so she couldn't see anything, and on top of that she figured it must be dark. Her arms were manacled behind her with what she could tell were sigiled cuffs, ones that could hold a demon. So they obviously knew what she was. Her instinct was to struggle, but then voices started to filter through her semi-conscious state and she decided instead to listen to what her captors had to say.

"Why don't we just kill her now?" asked a gruff voice.

"Dean," chided another.

"What, Sam? She's a demon, end of story!"

"And she's Lucifer's betrothed, she's been living in the palace, she could know all sorts of things."

"Both of you shut up," said an annoyed, British accented voice. "We've taken her to make an example of, to use as a bargaining chip to better get Lucifer to meet my demands."

"Fine. If you want to labor under the assumption he cares enough about her to bother paying a ransom, be my guest," said the first voice again.

"Ah, but this is why I'm the smart one, and you're just the muscle," said the British man. "Lucifer's big thing now is looking good in front of the people. All the executing of rebels he's been doing, is giving him bad PR and he needs to step up his game if he's going to be accepted as king without further rebellions. He'll have to meet whatever demands we ask for the princess or the people will see him as only the cold-hearted bastard he is. Not exactly the image he wants."

"I just don't see the point in this," the gruff man said. "This whole plan has been pointless. What do you expect Lucifer is going to offer you that will eventually lead you to winning this rebellion and becoming king yourself if that's your grand master plan when all is said and done?"

"Weakness," the accented man said simply. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand the finer points of strategy and subterfuge. And rest assured, as soon as we get somewhere safe, we will not let her go to waste. We will wait a few days to send the ransom note and in that time, we will make good on getting any information we can out of the princess."

Meg nearly snorted. She might be technically on the same side as her captors, but that didn't mean she was going to side with these particular rebels, especially if they planned on torturing her. Maybe once they got to wherever they were going she could strike a deal herself.

"I know you're awake, Princess," the British man called out a little louder.

Meg kept still, but someone came over and yanked the hood from her head. She looked up at the three men, the short one with the good suit, obviously the one with the accent, the young, tall one who had stopped her on the road, and the other one, a few years older with a hard face, who must have been the one to get the jump on her.

"He's right, you know," Meg said, nodding to the hard-looking man. "Lucifer doesn't care about me. He just wanted a buffer for the people and thought I would do the job."

"Undoubtedly true, but as I'm sure you heard, he does need you for his little plans, and therefor, love, you are a valuable playing piece on this game board."

"And yet you're still willing to torture me for information you haven't even bothered to consider I might give up willingly."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, darling," the man smirked.

"Hey!" the young man called from where he now stood at the stern of the boat, looking out over the dark waters. "I think we're being followed."

"Inconceivable," the short man growled. "We covered our tracks completely, no one should be following us."

"Yeah, well, unless that's a fisherman out for a pleasure cruse in eel infested waters, we're being followed," the hard man said with a good dash of sarcasm.

"Shut up," the British man hurried to the stern and when he saw the boat behind them, he cursed.

"Whoever it is, they're gaining on us," the young man said.

"Then raise the bloody sail, we must reach the Cliffs before him!"

Meg waited for them all to turn their attention to the boat and then she climbed to her feet and simply jumped over the side.

"Son of a bitch!" came a shout, probably from the older of the two rebels if Meg were to make her guess. "She's jumped ship!"

"Thank you for stating the obvious; get in after her!" the short man shouted.

"What part of eel infested waters do you not understand?" the man shot back.

"You two are the most worthless hunters I've ever worked with," the short man grumbled as he went over to the side.

"Princess, the waters are indeed eel infested as my associate keeps mentioning, but you're also wearing sigiled cuffs which means you are no better than human. Which, in turn, means that you will have to breath. I would suggest you come back here."

"Bite me!" Meg yelled back, just as something long and slimy brushed against her leg. She jerked back involuntarily. She had heard stories of the channel that held old things, things that had escaped the darker realms of Purgatory long ago and congregated in unpleasant areas around the kingdom. And her insufferable captor was right. With these cuffs, she was no better than human, thrashing about in the dark water.

"I can hear her," said the young man, just as another eel surfaced and Meg just barely dodged out of the way of its gaping maw.

There was a gunshot, and the eel shrieked and collapsed back into the water only to get set upon by its own kind. The waters were all of a sudden turned into a thrashing bloody cauldron. A hand grabbed the back of Meg's dress and hauled her up before she could get caught in the melee, throwing her none-too-gently down on the deck of the boat again.

"Next time I won't save you," said the older hunter gruffly. "In my opinion, you're not worth the trouble."

"Alright, we've saved the damsel, now let's go!" the short man called, glancing over his shoulder at the fast approaching boat of the stranger behind them.

The young hunter came over to Meg and threw a blanket over her. "Best not catch cold," he said.

She didn't thank him, but she was grateful. The night was cold.

They sailed for a few more minutes, the short, British man grumbling and shouting the whole time, before he looked up and caught sight of a cliff-face coming out of the mist, accented by the early dawn light.

"Ah, finally! The Cliffs of Insanity!"

"He's still gaining on us," the older hunter said blandly, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching boat.

"For the last time, the fact that _anyone_ would be following us, let alone, gaining, would be inconceivable. He's likely just going the same direction."

"Sure," the hunter grunted and kept his hand on the tiller.

They reached the cliffs and the younger hunter jumped out to tie the boat off. The older hunter grabbed Meg and hauled her to her feet as the rest of them exited.

"Let's go," the short man said impatiently.

They all went over to a rickety pulley system that had been built into the side of the cliff with a small wooden platform barely big enough for the four of them, and a hand crank to make it go up.

The older hunter shook his head. "I freaking hate this thing."

"Get over it," the short man snapped. "Let's go!"

As they got into the rickety elevator, they glanced over to see the other boat docking right next to theirs.

"Faster!" the short man screamed.

The two hunters took hold of the crank and began to turn it together, starting the pulley with a jolt as it made its way up the side of the cliffs.

Meg got her first look at their pursuer then as he leapt off his small boat to tie it off, and then stood back to study the cliffs. He was dressed all in black, a long, dark coat catching the wind and billowing around him. Even his face was masked in black, with no way to make out his features. Meg wondered if he might have been one of Lucifer's men, sent after them to fetch her back, or possibly to be done with her entirely, leaving Lucifer the victim of a tragic loss.

She focused up the cliffs, deciding that either way, she seemed to be in quite a dire predicament.

They were about halfway up the cliffs when they felt the contraption shudder.

"The hell?" the older hunter demanded, glancing around.

They all looked below to where the man in black had taken a hold of the pulley ropes and was using them to climb up the side of the mountain.

"Inconceivable!" the short man hissed.

"Okay, seriously, stop using that word, you obviously don't understand the definition," the younger hunter snapped, as he and his companion cranked the pulley up with more effort, working to reach the top before the man in black gained the platform.

They made it, and the four of them leapt out, onto the top of the cliffs.

"Cut the bloody rope!" the short man cried. "Don't let him get up here."

The older hunter instantly drew a long knife and leaned over to slash the ropes from the pulley system. They slackened and left the platform teetering on the edge of the cliff for a second before it fell backwards, leaving no way to scale the cliffs until someone was brave enough to replace it.

All three of them went to look over the edge, and so did Meg, mostly because the younger hunter had a hold of her arm.

But she was shocked like the others, to see, not the broken body of the man in black at the bottom of the cliffs, but instead to see him clinging to the side of the sheer rock face, his coat billowing out behind him like a pair of wings. Even the platform seemed to have missed him for that was the only thing that lay smashed to pieces below.

"Inconceivable!" the short man screamed.

The younger hunter rolled his eyes.

The short man took hold of Meg himself and jabbed a finger at the older hunter. "You, wait here in case he gets to the top. And if he does, you know what to do."

The hunter opened his mouth to protest, but the short man gave him little choice in the matter because he threw Meg into the younger man's arms, and started off along the path. "Catch up when you're through."

Meg looked back once more, and for some reason, she hoped that the man in black might have a chance of winning this fight.

* * *

 _Castiel twitched in the bed, and Meg glanced up from the book._

"Cas?" she called softly. "Clarence, are you waking up?"

His head tilted slightly to one side and his fingers twitched, but nothing more. After that brief movement, he was completely still once again. Meg reached up to take his hand in hers, squeezing his limp fingers.

"You've got to wake up at some point, you know," she told him. "You can't just leave me sitting here forever. Because I will, you know. I'm just as stubborn as you and I'll stay here until you wake up. You know I don't need to eat or sleep."

No response. Meg huffed a sigh and turned back to the book. There was nothing better to do than read.

* * *

 _The elder of the two hunters, who's name happened to be Dean Winchester, stood on the top of the cliff, awaiting the arrival of the man in black._ The man he was supposed to kill.

If Dean were being honest with himself, though, he didn't want to have to kill this man, and especially not for Crowley. He was a hunter, and not just a hunter—a great hunter. He'd hunted everything from demons, to vampires and werewolves, to monsters most humans couldn't even imagine. He knew how to kill everything and he could. Never had he lost a battle, and because of that, fighting no longer held an appeal to him. He couldn't care less about any hunt but the one that had consumed him for as long as he could remember.

His hunt for the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

And now he was so close to that monster, that he didn't want to waste time working with Crowley. Only that Crowley offered the means to the revenge that Dean had been looking for. Only Crowley held the weapon that could kill Lucifer's right hand man—or so he promised. And he had also promised to give it to Dean if he and his brother aided him in his own quest to take over the throne. But that had been a long story and it was only going to be longer the more it got delayed by pointless side ventures.

So it was understandable to find Dean was less than pleased that he had been left to clean up this mess, that he had taken this mission at all, for to him it was pointless. Even the princess knew that Lucifer wouldn't care whether she lived or died.

Pacing on the top of the cliff for several moments, he finally went over to the side again and peered down. The man in black was inching slowly up, painstakingly finding a handhold here, a foothold there. Dean's impatience flared.

"You gonna take all day?"

The man in black looked up. His face was masked, but even then, Dean could see the irritation there. "I would fly, but I lost my wings," he said sarcastically.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Was this man just being funny or was he actually a fallen angel? Dean had met several over the years. Hunted some, hunted with others in the rebellion. Still, at least if this man was a fallen angel it would give him some kind of challenge.

"There's some rope up here," he called down again. "I could throw it to you."

The man in black looked up again. "I can only assume that since you are still there, you are only waiting up there to kill me, so I think I will take my chances, lest you decide to drop me and be done with it."

Dean scuffed his foot on the ground, shrugging. "Fair enough. How about I give you my word as a hunter, that I won't do that?"

"No good," the man grunted as his foot nearly slipped, but he caught himself at the last moment. "I've known too many hunters."

Dean bit his lip and looked over his shoulder. The sun had almost completely risen in the sky now. It would take him a long time to catch up with the others at this rate.

He turned back to the cliff and knelt down, looking over at the man.

"How about I swear on the souls of Mary and John Winchester, my parents, that you will reach the top alive?" he said.

The man in black seemed to consider a moment, and then finally gave a short nod. "Very well. Throw me the rope."

Dean quickly untangled what was left of the pulley rope and tossed it to the man, giving him means to climb up the rest of the cliff face. Once he had reached the top, Dean gave him a hand and the two stood somewhat awkwardly. The man in black looked winded but understandably wary, and Dean, with some irritation, knew that this would be no fight, so he motioned to some nearby rocks.

"You can rest for a minute."

The man looked suspicious. "Why do you care?"

"Because I always fight fair, otherwise what is the point of the challenge?" Dean said with a shrug.

The man nodded again as if in agreement and the two sat several feet apart on the rocks.

They were silent for a moment before Dean said, "So are you with Lucifer?"

"No," came the quick reply.

"The rebellion then?"

No reply.

Dean sighed. "What are you doing out here then, you got a beef with Crowley?"

The man cocked his head to one side. "It's…personal."

Dean thought of the princess and had a feeling he knew where this was going. He felt even less like killing this man now.

"You're a hunter, and I assume a rebel," the man in black said then. "Why are _you_ out here working for someone like Crowley?"

"Long story," Dean muttered, then took a deep breath. "But mainly, because he has the means to help me with my revenge."

"Against who?" the man in black inquired.

"The Yellow-Eyed Demon," Dean said, looking off into the distance. "He killed my parents, cursed my brother. I've been hunting him my whole life. I long for the day that I can meet him face to face, and can finally say, 'hello, my name is Dean Winchester. You killed my mother and my father. Prepare to die'. And then I'm going to shoot him dead." He stood then, seeing that the man in black had had plenty of time for any decent fighter to recover. He took a long knife from the back of his belt, checking the blade. "Unfortunately, my contract with Crowley means I have to do what he asked of me. Which, right now, means stopping you at all costs."

The man in black stood too and a silver blade slid from his sleeve into his hand. He gave it a small twirl as if to test the weight. "I understand," he said.

Dean shrugged. "Still, you seem a decent guy. I hate to kill you."

"As do you," the man in black said. "I'd hate to die."

And with that, the fight began. It did not take long for Dean to realize that this man in black, human, demon, or fallen angel, was indeed a master. The way he held his blade and moved lightly on his feet made it look more like a dance than a fight.

But Dean was an expert hunter, and he had fought to survive and to win in every fight he had ever entered. He did not lose because losing meant death in his world. And so it was inevitable, that he scored a hit on the man in black. Just a knick on the upper arm, but enough to get through his defenses.

They stepped back for a moment as the man in black looked down at the blood showing through his torn sleeve. "First blood. Impressive."

Dean grunted, and they engaged again, this time with such a barrage of blows that anyone watching would not have been able to keep up with the blur of metal.

But Dean got through the man in black's defenses again and he scored a small slice to his opponent's thigh.

"I suppose I am somewhat out of practice," the man in black muttered as if to himself, and then practically flew at Dean, and the hunter was hard pressed to defend himself. In fact, he didn't even realize it at first, but he was being driven back, and almost the second he realized that, the man in black executed a move even Dean had never seen before, one that caused his knife to go flying out of his hand.

He ended up on his knees in front of the other man, stunned that he had actually lost a battle.

He reached for the gun at the back of his belt, but found nothing. He looked up, seeing the man in black tossing that away as well, standing over him with his own blade held casually by his side.

"Please…my brother," Dean said softly. He never pleaded, but he could not leave Sam alone to fight this war without him. He had promised never to do that.

But the man in black shook his head. "I could never kill a truly righteous man, such as you. But I can't exactly have you following me either." And with that he reached out to touch Dean's forehead and everything went dark for the hunter.

The man in black gazed at the limp figure for a long moment before putting away his blade. "I wish you luck with your revenge. I believe you to truly be a decent man, and I hold you in the highest respect."

But with that, he turned and took off down the path taken by the rest of the party. His mission was not yet over.

XXX

 _Sam stood on a rise where Crowley had halted them to wait for Dean to catch up,_ but his heart plummeted into his throat as he saw a figure appear on the path.

A figure dressed all in black.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" Crowley demanded. "No one beats Dean Winchester in a fight!"

Sam swallowed hard. He couldn't believe his brother was dead, no, there had to be another explanation.

"Hey!" Crowley snapped, and pointed to the man. "You stay and stop him."

"How?" Sam demanded. "If Dean couldn't then what can I do?"

"Use your powers, put them to good use for once," Crowley said. "Just make sure he's stopped! My plan is already in ruins."

Sam had a few choice words to say about Crowley's plan, especially if it had gotten his brother killed, but he also knew their contract well enough, and he knew that he had to obey. So he nodded, and moved to one side where there was a cluster of large rocks he could hide among until the man in black appeared.

Crowley, meanwhile, took hold of the princess and moved further down the road.

It did not take long for the man in black to show up and when he reached the gathering of stones, he hesitated, as if sensing Sam there.

The young hunter stepped out from behind the rock and the man in black turned toward him.

"I assume you have been instructed to kill me as well?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry, but, I don't have much choice."

And with that, he threw out his hand and summoned his powers, attempting to use them to incapacitate or kill the man in black, who he had assumed up to this point, to be a demon assassin from Lucifer. But the only thing he managed was to ruffle the man's hair, and blow his long black coat a bit in the wind.

Sam staggered back, astonished. "You're not…"

"I'm not a demon," the man in black finished for him, stepping closer. "Which is why I have no desire to kill you. I know what you are, you're one of Azazel's experiments. The cursed children. I'm genuinely sorry."

Sam's fist tightened and he clenched his jaw. "I only use the powers when I have to." And that was true. He didn't like the way they made him feel, but they came instinctively to him too, they felt right to use, good, and he hated it. Always had.

The man in black inclined his head and they stood staring at each other.

"But I will warn you," Sam said then, pulling out a gun. "One way or another, if you killed my brother, then I will have no qualms about killing you."

He cocked the gun, pointing it at the man in black but he didn't seem worried about that either. Simply held up his hands.

"I did not kill your brother, and I will not kill you either. But I can't have you following me, you understand."

Sam wasn't sure how he moved so fast, but one moment the man in black was a few feet in front of him and then he had disarmed him, the gun flying several feet to land on the ground, the man's hand clenched around his wrist.

"If you want my advice, I would stop working with Crowley," said the man in black before he touched Sam's forehead, and everything went dark.

The man in black looked down at the young man, who now lay limply on the ground. "I truly am sorry about your curse, but you are obviously strong to have withstood its power this long." With one last glance, he started off down the path again.

Two down, only one more to go. And he knew this one would be the most challenging yet.

XXX

 _The demon Crowley had been known by many names over the years, but he preferred best the title, King of the Crossroads_. It reminded him of his ambitions to be king of the realm one day when he overthrew Lucifer. He was canny, calculating, extremely clever, and because of that, he had come to be known throughout the kingdom as someone you did not want to cross. But he was also known to be the one you go to if you had no other options, which is how he got his hands on the Brothers Winchester.

And, really, the Princess too. Even his hired hunters didn't know the truth about her. Though his ruse about the ransom had been a decent one, he had actually been hired to kidnap her by a high-ranking demon in Lucifer's court. And not only kidnap, but kill her. So that Lucifer, putting on the ruse of bereft betrothed, could gain sympathy from his people, and promise to turn things around before he really cracked down on the rebellion. Of course, the joke was on all of them, because while they went for the full-fledged attack on the rebel forces who supposedly murdered Lucifer's bride to be, Crowley had plans to make himself king when all was said and done. After all, he was much more suited the role than that ill-tempered brat, Lucifer.

When the man in black came upon him, he was sitting down to a picnic, the picture of nonchalance. The princess was lying to one side against a rock, gagged, blindfolded and still with the sigiled cuffs around her wrists. Crowley also added the touch of putting a dagger to her throat, and one specifically designed to be able to injure and kill demons.

"Take another step and she dies," Crowley said, pressing the dagger enough so that Meg hissed and tilted her head back.

The man in black halted his progress, standing there with his hands held out. "Let me explain."

"I completely understand what you are trying to do. You're trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen. I don't take kindly to that notion."

The man in black took a step forward again, but the dagger was only pressed deeper into Meg's neck, drawing a drop of blood. "You're killing her!" Crowley warned.

The man in black stopped again. "We are at an impasse then."

"It seems that way," Crowley replied. "You have already beaten both of my hunters, and now it is down to you, and it is down to me."

The man in black inclined his head in a nod. "So I must beat you as well."

"Indeed. But I am not going to fight you, if that's what you mean. However, I can already tell that I am no match for you physically. But you cannot possibly be a match for my brains, so, once again, we are at an impasse."

"You're that smart?" the man in black asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Let me put it this way, have you heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates? Morons," Crowley said a bit smugly.

"You're that smart?"

"I'm the daringest devil you've ever met; of course I am," Crowley said a bit smugly.

"In that case," the man in black said. "I challenge you to a battle of wits."

"For the princess?" Crowley asked, interest piqued.

The man in black nodded.

"To the death?"

Another nod.

"I accept," Crowley said, and finally took the knife away from Meg's throat.

The man in black took that as invitation to step forward and sit himself across from the King of the Crossroads. "Please pour the wine," he said, indicating the bottle on the cloth.

Crowley instantly poured the wine into two goblets and set them in the center of the cloth, as the man in black pulled a small vile from his coat.

"What is that?" Crowley asked.

"It is a deadly poison, one that can kill anything, from humans, to creatures of the supernatural universe—even demons," the man in black said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and the man in black reached forward and took both the goblets then turned his back for a long moment before turning back around. He set one goblet in front of Crowley and the other in front of himself.

"Your guess," he said, motioning to the goblets. "Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun."

Crowley smiled then. "A clever game. But a simple one at that, all I have to do is deduce from what I know of you, the way your mind works. Are you the kind of man who would put the poison in his own glass or that of his enemy?"

"You're stalling," the man in black grumbled.

"I'm simply playing the game," Crowley stated. "You see, a clever man would place the poison in his own goblet, knowing that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm clearly not a great fool, so I will clearly not choose the wine in front of you."

"That's your final choice?"

"No!" Crowley chuckled. "You must know of my notoriety if you were able to track me so well, so therefor you knew I was not a great fool, that I would never fall for such a trick, you would have counted on it. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're still stalling," the man in black accused. "But keep going if you must."

"I will," Crowley replied smugly. "You see, you have beaten Sam Winchester and his powers, so I can only assume you are not a demon, and therefor must be a fallen angel, by my reckoning. If that is the case, would you assume immunity to this poison and therefor put it in front of you? So, obviously, if that were the case, I couldn't drink the wine in front of you."

"Truly you have a dizzying intellect," the man in black replied blandly.

"Just wait until I get going," Crowley smirked. "Because you also beat Dean, which means that you must understand how to win a fight, how to strategize, and how to be cautious. If that were the case, then through pure cautionary strategy, you would put the poison as far from yourself as possible, and therefor I cannot choose the wine in front of me."

"You're trying to make me give something away; it will not work," the man in black said firmly.

"I have already learned everything I can from you," Crowley said with a smirk. "I know where the poison is."

"Then make your choice," the man in black snapped, his impatience growing by the second.

"I will, and my choice is—" Crowley suddenly looked over the other man's shoulder, mouth open. "What in the world could that be?"

The man in black glanced instinctively over his shoulder. Crowley quickly reached out and switched the two goblets, before his opponent turned back around, unamused. "I don't see anything."

"Oh, well, I could have sworn I saw something. No matter," Crowley replied and then started to chuckle, unable to help himself.

"I don't understand. What's so funny?" the man in black inquired.

"Nothing, tell you in a minute," Crowley replied, waving him away. "First, let's drink. Me from my glass, you from yours."

They picked up the goblets and held them in a mockery of a toast before each taking a drink.

As soon as they put the goblets back onto the cloth, the man in black said, "You guessed wrong."

To his surprise, Crowley burst out laughing. "You only think I guessed wrong! That's what was so funny! I switched the glasses when your back was turned!"

The man in black sat silent, watching the demon dissolve into laughter.

"Idiot!" Crowley howled. "You fell for one of the classic blunders. The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this: Never go in against the King of the Crossroads, when death is on the line!"

He guffawed, practically rolling, until he stopped, and seized up, and fell to one side, completely dead.

The man in black stood, unceremoniously taking the key from the demon's pocket and heading to crouch in front of the captive princess.

He first pulled off her blindfold and gag and then pushed her forward so he could get to the manacles.

Meg watched him silently the whole time before she asked.

"Who are you?"

"I'm no one of consequence," the masked man replied, concentrating on releasing her.

"Did he really switch the glasses?" she asked.

"It wouldn't have mattered, the were both poisoned. I am…immune to that certain brand of toxin."

Before she could ask any more questions, he pulled her to her feet. "I would suggest we leave."

Against her better judgment, and not truly understanding her motives, Meg allowed him to grab her hand and run.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I'll have to admit this last night's finale was probably one of the least emotionally damaging ones. I actually really enjoyed it over all. Not that I won't be writing fics over** **hiatus, but I'm not left a complete wreck either, so props for that.**

 **In the meantime, here is some more of this :)**

Chapter Three

Meg thought Castiel was getting warmer, sure of it this time. Dean found her pressing a hand to his forehead with a worried expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, coming into the room with a fresh cup of coffee.

"He's getting a fever," Meg replied grimly. "Not too bad yet, but…"

Dean stepped past her to check for himself, pressing the back of his hand against Cas' head. "Dammit," he muttered.

"On the other hand, at least it's something," Meg said. She had been so afraid he had been in a completely comatose state. But the sign of a fever could mean that this was something that had the ability to run its course. Perhaps they didn't even need an antidote after all and this was just something that would work its way out of Cas' system with enough time.

If they were ever that lucky.

"I'll get some wet cloths," Dean told her. "In the meantime, Sammy and I will keep up with the research." He nodded to her. "Just keep looking after him."

"I will," Meg replied.

A few minutes later when Dean had brought a bowl of cool water and some washcloths, Meg pressed one to Cas' forehead and sat back to continue reading, hoping that Cas was finally on his way back to her.

* * *

" _Stop," Meg said after a long while, yanking her hand from the man in black's grip._

He did, but didn't seem pleased about it, standing back and watching Meg steady herself against a large rock. They were on the edge of a ravine, the midday sun was hot, and she had finally come to her senses.

"Catch your breath if you must, but we will need to keep going," the man in black said.

Meg stood straight then, hands on her hips. "Look, thanks for the rescue, if that's what it was, but I'm not going another inch with you until you tell me who you are, and what you're doing all the way out here."

"It is not of import," the man growled.

"And why do you wear a mask?" Meg demanded. "Are you a rebel? Or were you perhaps sent by Lucifer to bring me back?"

"Neither," he replied. "Not really. All you need know is that I am no one to be trifled with."

"I can tell," she said. "You killed the King of the Crossroads."

"Prince Lucifer _will_ have men out looking for you, though. He could not let you go without such a fuss," the man in black said.

"Exactly," Meg replied. "Which is why you should leave now before that happens. I won't mention you to him."

"Is that what you want?" the man in black asked, his voice oddly bitter. "To go back to your beloved prince?"

Meg snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I said nothing about beloved anything."

"So you do not love him? Your betrothed?"

"I do not love at all," Meg replied sincerely. "Not anymore."

"Incapable of love, you mean," the man replied and turned to her fully then. "Typical demon with a heart of ice."

She slapped him, the sound of the blow echoing in the ravine.

"How dare you assume to know anything about me?" she hissed. "I did love once."

"Another demon?" the man asked. "Did he leave you then?"

"No," she replied, drawing herself up, the remembered agony of losing Castiel filling her breast with both fire and ice. "He was an angel, and he died. And that is why I will never love again."

"But yet you agreed to marry Prince Lucifer."

"I did what I had to do," Meg said. "And I would never expect a killer like you to understand that."

"Is that what you think I am, a killer?" the man asked.

"I think that's all you understand."

"And I think you understand little of love yourself. Tell me, how long after your angel died did you wait before accepting a proposal from the prince?"

"How dare you?!" Meg shouted. "I died that day! You can mock me all you want, but do not mock my grief."

The man in black's attention was drawn farther up in the hills where the distant sound of horses could be heard, and banners could be seen in the distance. Lucifer was riding out with his men.

He turned back to Meg. "It seems your prince is coming for you after all. Perhaps he cares more for you than you think. He'll be sorry when he finds out what a heart of ice you have in your breast, Princess."

Meg spun on him in anger and shoved him hard in the chest. "You want ice? You can die for all I care!" she snarled.

The man in black, standing close to the edge of the ravine, unbalanced, his arms pin-wheeling for a long second before he fell backwards, his coat flying out around him like wings that could not catch his fall. As he crashed backwards, his mask came lose, and as he rolled to face her again, Meg caught sight of the tussled black hair, and the sky blue eyes that all of a sudden burned into her with new life.

But it was the words that flew from his mouth instinctively, clear as day, even as he tumbled over rocks and roots.

"As… you… wish!"

"Clarence," Meg breathed, and without a glance back at Lucifer's approaching army, she picked up her skirts and slid down the ravine after him.

XXX

Lucifer halted his party of horsemen on top of the rise, looking out. He had tracked his wayward Princess this far, but somehow she had still eluded him.

Azazel was next to him, and glanced over. "My lord, perhaps you should let her go."

"No," Lucifer said simply. "The whole point of my having a betrothed is to keep her alive until the wedding. It would be…inconvenient to have to find another one now that I have introduced her to the people. It's the principle of the matter, Azazel."

The yellow-eyed demon rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded all the same. "I can see your point, my lord."

"Besides," Lucifer said. "I'm interested in whoever that masked man is, the one that absconded with her. I'd like to bring him in for questioning. And their rout, if they follow the ravine, will lead them directly into the Fire Swamp. If they don't perish there, we will meet them on the other side."

"I'll follow your lead, my Prince," Azazel said.

"Then let's not waste any more time," Lucifer said and kicked his horse into a gallop, heading toward his misplaced bride-to-be.

XXX

 _Meg slid as gracefully as possible down the ravine_ , but it was easier said than done, and she tumbled the last stretch, collapsing in a heap several feet away from Castiel. She still could not believe it was really him, could not believe she hadn't known from the start.

She hauled herself to her hands and knees and crawled toward him, bending down to take his face between her hands as his blue eyes opened to meet hers.

"Castiel," she whispered to him. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said and surprised her by taking her in his arms and pulling her against him. She went willingly.

"How are you not dead?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair, as he ran his along her body.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "What matters is that I found you again." And then he rolled her over so he was above her and pressed his lips to hers. Meg melted for a long second, allowing herself to soak in the bliss of having her angel back, but she finally broke away.

"Castiel, Lucifer will be here soon. We can't stay."

"I know," he replied, and with obvious reluctance, rolled to one side and stood, pulling Meg up with him. They looked around and he nodded down the ravine. "There's only one way out of here, one way they won't find us."

They started walking, until Meg said, "Wait, doesn't this lead directly into the Fire Swamp?"

"Yes."

"No one survives the Fire Swamp," Meg protested. "It's filled with creatures that escaped from Hell and Purgatory, portals to the void…"

"Your point?" Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Meg opened her mouth and shook her head, grabbing his hand. "My point is that you had damned well better be ready."

"Always," he said, and the demon and the angel rushed forward toward certain death.

XXX

 _No one knew whether the Fire Swamp_ had been created after its denizens of evil chose to reside there, or if it had always been that way and that was why they chose it as their place of refuge. Everyone simply knew to stay away from it at all costs. So the thought that anyone would run purposefully into the Fire Swamp was utterly ridiculous.

But when you had true love by your side, you did a lot of ridiculous things.

When Meg and Castiel reached the swamp, they halted their pace, cautiously entering the dark, wooded area. It smelled of sulfur and worse, the light was perpetually dim, even though there was full sun outside its perimeter, and there were unearthly sounds coming from deep within its shadowed depths.

Meg had been relieved of all her weapons when she had been captured, so Castiel loaned her one of his own blades as they ventured further.

"This is…not as bad as expected," Castiel commented.

"You take a girl to the nicest places, Clarence," Meg muttered.

There was a popping noise and then suddenly Castiel was yanking her aside.

"Look out!" he shouted.

Meg just barely missed being caught by a spurt of fire that suddenly burst out of the ground. The skirt of her dress didn't miss, and she hurriedly bent to beat it out.

"Damn thing," she muttered. "I guess that's why they call it the Fire Swamp."

"We had best be more cautious," Castiel said, as he took her hand again and led the way.

They walked for a while, carefully navigating the plethora of unidentifiable features of the swamp, until Meg broke the silence.

"So, tell me, how are you not dead?" she demanded. "I heard your ship was attacked by demons."

"It was," Castiel told her, hacking at a vine that stretched across their path. "And I did nearly die, but I was rescued by someone I didn't expect." He snagged her around the waist and pulled her out of the way of another fire spurt.

"Who?" Meg asked.

"An old acquaintance," Castiel replied. "He once called himself Gabriel, then became the Trickster. Now he's calling himself the Dread Pirate Roberts, ravaging Lucifer's ships whenever they go out past the harbor."

"I've heard about the Dread Pirate Roberts," Meg said, and this time it was her turn to pull Castiel away from the fire. "I heard he leaves no survivors."

"When it comes to demons, no, but for a long lost comrade, he made an exception." They crossed a fallen tree trunk that helped them over a ditch full of unholy sludge.

"Then why didn't you visit me this whole time? At least get word to me?" Meg demanded. "I thought you were dead, Castiel. I didn't lie before, it nearly killed me."

"And I regret keeping that from you," Castiel told her sincerely, taking her around the waist as she hopped down from the fallen tree and into his arms. "But I knew I couldn't come back unprepared. Meeting Gabriel again…I found a new purpose. I trained with him, and he gave me a blade that can kill Lucifer. Told me that someone had to do it, someone he didn't suspect."

"That was my plan after I thought you died too," Meg told him. "That's the only reason I agreed to be his betrothed."

"Then I suppose we're still of one mind after all," he said. "Perhaps you can marry your plan to mine? Join me when I go back to meet Gabriel on his ship and not have to see Lucifer again until we kill him ourselves?"

Meg smiled and touched his cheek. "I would love nothing more."

They continued on, dodging the fire, always alert for the creatures they could hear making noise in the shadows surrounding them.

Meg didn't know she was falling until everything became darkness.

She simply stepped off a rock and went through the ground at her feet, and then all was darkness, thick cloying darkness. In the back of her mind she realized she must have fallen into the void, but there was no thought in her mind but despair and terror, and hopelessness. She felt like she would never be happy again.

Castiel saw Meg disappear too late, already reaching out for her, but only finding empty air. Without a second thought, he grabbed hold of a ropy vine hanging from a tree overhead and dove in after her.

The atmosphere was thick and choking. He couldn't breathe, he felt as if he were being compressed in by the weight of the world. He was certain he would be too late to save Meg, but at the same time, he knew he would never leave these depths of nothingness without her.

And then his hand brushed warm flesh, and he latched on, finding her arm. He pulled, hauling Meg to him and then frantically climbed hand over hand back up the vine before the darkness consumed them both.

They rose from the void with a gasp and fell onto the safety of the ground. Castiel dragged Meg to more solid ground at the base of a tree and held her tightly as she trembled in his grip. He himself was shaken from the ordeal.

"There was nothing," she whispered, and he realized there were tears on her cheeks. "It was…it was worse than Hell, than anything."

"You're safe now," he told her.

"We'll die here."

"We won't," he assured her.

After a few moments, the horror wore off and they began to come back to themselves. Meg stopped trembling and stirred in Castiel's arms.

Castiel suddenly caught sight of a shadow flitting between the trees nearby. A low growl came from the other direction, and he and Meg looked around wearily.

"Castiel, we have to leave," she said, and stood.

He followed her lead, blade once again in his hand, and they hurried along, feeling the approaching beasts as they began to gather, hemming them in.

"What do you think it is?" Meg asked, clutching her own blade tightly.

"Hellhounds," Castiel replied grimly. "I thought they were all extinct. It seems I was wrong."

As if to prove his point, one of the shadowy hellhounds suddenly leapt from behind a tree and drove the angel to the ground.

"Castiel!" Meg shouted, but before she could go to his aid, the other leapt at her and she was forced to turn and fend it off with her blade.

Castiel struggled from underneath the beast, slashing at it with his blade. He left a mark on the thing's shoulder, but it did little good, only made the beast madder. It latched its jaws around his forearm and bit down. Castiel cried out, but finally managed to kick the hound off of him.

The other one had Meg backed against a tree but she was slashing at it mercilessly, fending it off until she tripped and fell backwards heavily.

Castiel threw his blade without a thought, catching the beast in the throat before it could tear out Meg's.

But there was still the other hound, and it leapt at his unprotected back and clamped its jaws around Castiel's shoulder, biting deep into the muscle, and tearing his flesh.

Castiel went to his knees with a cry of pain, clawing at the hellhound and trying to find another blade in his coat.

But a scream of anger from Meg caused him to look up and she stabbed downward into the hellhound's neck. The beast let out a pained yelp, and took its teeth from Castiel's shoulder. Meg stabbed it several more times before it finally lay dead on the ground.

"Castiel," she said, and hurried toward him, bending to help him to his feet.

Castiel groaned, and leaned heavily on her. His shoulder and arm throbbed, and he knew the wounds were grievous, but they had to get out of there.

"Come," he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Meg looked like she wanted to protest, but she picked up his blade instead and wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him.

Thankfully, they had passed through the worst of the Fire Swamp and the trees began to thin to normal forest.

Castiel was in agony with his wounds. He was flagging fast, and at this point he was not sure he would make it much farther.

"How much farther is the ship?" Meg asked him as if sensing his suffering.

He never got to answer though, because the sound of a concentrated group of horses could be heard and Castiel stopped completely, closing his eyes.

"We're too late," he groaned.

"Lucifer," Meg said bitterly.

Castiel tugged on her, attempting to pull her to shelter but Meg wasn't budging.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Castiel, but I'm going to save us both," Meg told him with determination, standing there in plain sight. Castiel knew that Lucifer had already seen them by now, and it was too late to do anything but fight or go along with whatever plan Meg had.

"Meg…"

"This is the only way, Castiel," she said quietly as Lucifer and his men thundered forward. "This is about more than just us now. We have to stop Lucifer or more people will suffer."

Castiel closed his eyes in defeat but knew she was right. As much as he simply wanted to forget everything, to live out the rest of eternity, just the two of them in each other's arms, he knew that would never be with Lucifer out there.

"I never wanted this for us," he said softly as the horses finally got there, kicking up the fallen leaves as they came to a halt.

"I know," Meg whispered. "But I can't lose you again, and if this is the only way, then I will take it."

"Guards!" Lucifer shouted to the demon soldiers who had accompanied him. "Retrieve my betrothed from that piece of filth."

"My lord Lucifer," Meg said boldly, releasing Castiel and stepping in front of him protectively as he fought to stand on his own without showing how much pain he was in. "This man is not one of my captors. He's a simple sailor, who, in passing, saved my life from the scoundrels who would have murdered me. I only ask that he is returned to his ship for his troubles."

Lucifer met her eyes for a long moment, then turned to Castiel. The angel, turned man in black, was not sure if Lucifer could see through him or not, but he knew Lucifer could play his part when he needed to.

He inclined his head. "I suppose I owe you my gratitude. I swear that I shall not do you harm. You will be rewarded for your troubles, rest assured. Now, Princess, let us go home." He held out his hand.

Meg slipped away from Castiel's side, with one glance over her shoulder that would have to be enough until they met again.

The demons who had dismounted began to surround Castiel.

Before Meg was within hearing range, Lucifer leaned over to speak to Azazel. "Take the man in black back to the castle and throw him into the Pit of Despair."

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "I have never known you to break your word, my lord."

Lucifer smirked. "I never lie. Alastair shall be the one to take him apart. Not me."

Meg was there then and he reached down to pull her onto the horse in front of him. She cringed in disgust as he wrapped his arms around her to reach the reins.

"My lady, it's good to have you back," he said smoothly, breath against the back of her neck.

Meg said nothing as Lucifer kicked his horse into movement and galloped off. Meg simply looked back once more at Castiel, standing at the edge of the Fire Swamp, weary, and injured, and she wanted nothing more than to jump off the horse and run back to him. But she couldn't do that. They had to save the kingdom first.

Castiel watched as Lucifer's general approached, along with more demons.

"Come, sir," Azazel said. "Let's get you back to your ship."

Castiel stared up at him firmly. "We are both men of action. Lies do not become us."

"Indeed," Azazel said with a smile, and it was then Castiel truly noticed his eyes. He furrowed his brow. Had not that hunter he fought, Dean Winchester, said he was looking for a demon with yellow eyes?

"You have yellow eyes," he said simply as the demons came and wrenched his arms behind him, tying them tight. His shoulder protested, but he ignored it. "I know someone who was looking for you."

Azazel smiled wider. "Right now, I would be more concerned about yourself. You won't like where you're going."

And with that, one of the demons hit Castiel over the head and he crumpled to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**On to chapter four! Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed so far :) I'm glad at least someone is enjoying this odd crossover :P**

Chapter Four

Castiel twitched and a small breathy moan escaped his throat. Meg was so startled, she got to her feet and stood over him.

"Cas? Come on, Clarence, show me some life," she practically pleaded. His fever was even worse, burning through him without a sign of stopping. Meg glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It had now been three hours since Cas' fever had started. Twelve hours since he had been hit with the curse. If this was a twenty-four hour thing, then maybe this was the halfway point. Of course, that could either be good or bad. Usually curses went one of two ways: they could work their course and wear off, leaving the victim as they had been before. Or they could work their course, and the victim could end up dead or worse—and with curses, there was always a worse.

Sam had Dean still hadn't found any cure for this particular curse, and Meg was afraid that time might be running out for her angel. She glanced toward the cracked door. Dean was getting some rest while Sam had resumed his search in the library, but there was nothing they could really do but offer support at this moment. Meg certainly wasn't going to leave Castiel's side.

So she climbed into the bed next to him to make herself more comfortable, sitting against the headboard and pulling him toward her so that his head rested in her lap. She continued to bathe his forehead as she did the only thing she could to comfort him.

Let him hear the sound of her voice.

* * *

 _On the castle grounds, far past the guards' barracks and the stables,_ so that it butted up against the surrounding forest and was for the most part unseen from the passersby, there stood a small hut that opened into a vast underground prison called the Pit of Despair. This was where Lucifer sent people who had displeased him, to have unspeakable things done to them by the head torturer: a demon by the name of Alastair, who had always been fascinated by pain, and saw it almost as an art form. No one who went into the pit ever left it alive, unless Lucifer himself decreed it, and if by some miracle the person survived, they were never the same.

This was where Castiel found himself when he woke, alone, in agony, in the dark and cold depths of the Pit. He was bare-chested, chained to a table in a room full of unimaginable tools used to inflict pain on the human body—and likely the non-human as well.

He startled as a figure appeared with a cart, a demon. He tugged at his chains instinctively.

"Don't bother," the demon said. "They were made for your kind. There's no chance of you getting out."

"Where am I?" Castiel asked, his voice rough.

"The Pit of Despair," the demon said simply.

"Why am I not dead?" Castiel asked then, but was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

The demon shrugged. "Lord Lucifer obviously wants something out of you. Then he'll kill you." He picked up a bowl and cloth and began to clean the hellhound bites before spreading a strong-smelling poultice over the wounds. It stung, but Castiel was more confused by the gesture than anything.

"Why bother curing me, then, if I am ultimately to die?" he asked eventually.

The demon's mouth turned up in a wicked grin. "Alastair likes to have his subjects in good condition before he starts to work them over."

"So it's to be torture then," Castiel commented, his stomach tightening at the thought, even as he put on a brave face. "I can cope with torture."

The demon chuckled, shaking his head. "Not Alastair. Everyone breaks under him." He put his things back on the cart once he had finished cleaning the wounds. "You better enjoy the rest while you can. You'll be completely healed within a couple days and then Alastair will make it his job to take you apart."

Castiel closed his eyes as the demon trundled the cart away, laughing to himself. The angel knew that he needed to prepare himself for what was coming, and so he created a place in his head all his own, where it was just him and Meg, and eternal bliss. A place that even this Alastair couldn't touch.

XXX

 _Meg flew into a sitting position with a gasp_. Shadows danced across the walls as she reached with shaking hands to light a candle on her bedside. The light was a small comfort in this cursed place. Another nightmare. She had been having them since she had gotten back to the palace. All she could think about was leaving Castiel out there, wounded in the woods, surrounded by the enemy. She knew it was very wishful thinking he had actually ended up back on the ship, but then, Castiel had survived a demon attack before, and come back to her. She truly believed he would do that now.

She untangled the sheets from her legs as the horror of the nightmare eased. She had been somewhat surprised that Lucifer had not paid much attention to her at all since he had gotten her back, besides to tell her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not allowed to leave the castle again until after the wedding. He had said it gently, with a smile, as if it were for her own safety, but she had not missed the underlying malice that Meg understood to mean that leaving the palace would be met with some sort of punishment.

So all she could do was bide her time until she got the chance to kill Lucifer. And until then, it was only her thoughts of Castiel, and the life they would have together after this was all over that kept her sane.

XXX

 _Lucifer and Azazel strode down the halls of the palace_ after a late night planning session.

"How is the Princess after her…traumatic experience?" Azazel asked, barely holding a smirk in.

Lucifer glanced over at him with a piercing gaze. "Lucky she didn't come to harm. I know you had something to do with it, and I will not tolerate you taking things into your own hands again, Azazel."

The demon inclined his head an apology. "My deepest apologies, my Lord. I fear I misread your motives slightly. It will not happen again."

"No, it will not," Lucifer growled. "It will be much more tragic when she is murdered by rebels on our wedding night. I'm not sure how I'll ever get over that."

Azazel smiled, his yellow eyes flashing with pleasure at the thought.

"Any word on the prisoner?" Lucifer inquired.

"I do believe he is back to health—Alastair will likely be starting on him tonight."

"Perfect," Lucifer said with dark pleasure. He wanted nothing more than for the fallen angel to suffer extraordinarily. He had seen the way Meg looked at him, could imagine how demoralized his betrothed would be to find her lover was destroyed in all the ways that mattered. If she became too much of a problem, he would be sure to let her know of it. "Inquire into it tomorrow and report back to me."

"Of course, my Lord," Azazel said, and excused himself for the night.

Lucifer smiled. It would not be long now before he had control of the entire kingdom.

XXX

 _Castiel woke to footsteps coming toward him._ He was still chained to the table in the way he had initially found himself, except now he knew it had been at least a couple days, and his wound was completely healed. He felt a flash of fear that this was it. This was where the pain started.

A figure materialized out of the shadows. Tall, thin, with a wicked half smirk on his face, and when he spoke, his voice was the hiss of a serpent. Castiel tugged at his chains instinctively.

The demon chuckled. "So, here's the little bird they have been telling me about. I must say, I've been rather looking forward to this. It's been so long since I've had an angel to play with, even a fallen one like yourself."

Castiel decided he would say nothing. It was easier that way. If this Alastair knew nothing about him, he could not truly hurt him.

"I have a feeling you'll be a challenge. Good. It's been too long since I've had a real challenge."

The demon picked up a razor, the blade glinting in the dim light of the torture chamber, and stepped to loom directly over Castiel.

"Now, do tell me about yourself, Castiel."

Alastair lowered the blade, and Castiel closed his eyes. But before he felt the first cut through tender flesh, he was already gone, off to that place in his mind he had carved out for himself, a place where Alastair could not touch him.

It continued like this for days. Every day a session of pain from Alastair. Some times the Yellow-Eyed Demon Azazel would come to witness, ask questions Castiel would give no answers to and then the angel would go away to his safe place until it was over, and the demon guard would tend to his wounds, and leave him alone for the same thing to repeat itself tomorrow.

Now, Alastair was a master of pain. He liked to think of himself as an artist, but he also knew that he was genuinely the best torturer in the land. In fact, he was writing a definitive work on the subject, and spent most of the time he was not torturing writing essays on the practice, and coming up with new and increasingly creative ways in which to inflict pain.

He understood that not every method worked on every man. Some men could suffer through every bone in their body being broken, but take a knife to them and start them bleeding and they would collapse in horror. Some were the exact opposite. Some broke quicker, some took a lot of work to break, some couldn't care what you did to their bodies, it was their minds you had to break.

So needless to say, he knew that Castiel was taking himself away. That whenever Alastair took his razors and other instruments to the fallen angel, that Castiel would slip into his own mind, find a blissful place he had created for himself and reside there until the session was over.

Alastair was not angry in the least. He had seen this before, and was practically giddy at the thought of the challenge. It seemed it was a perfect time to bring out the project he had been trying to perfect for years. It was time to bring out The Machine.

Castiel woke from a weary snatch of sleep between sessions, his body covered in half-healed slices that he hadn't felt as Alastair carved into him, but always did afterward. But by then it didn't matter because it was over and he didn't have to be strong for himself. He just had to get through the demon's torment.

However, he would have lied if he said he wasn't afraid when he saw Alastair come into the chamber again, followed by the demon who was pushing something on a cart, a large contraption that Castiel could make no sense of.

Alastair saw his eyes on it and smiled, putting a hand almost lovingly on the contraption as it was brought to rest beside the table Castiel lay on.

"I assume you're wondering what this is," he said, as he began to fiddle with it, pulling out what looked like suction cups, and beginning to attach them to Castiel's body. His head, his torso. Castiel watched him work, both curious and terrified to think of what the purpose of this contraption could be.

"I have been working on this machine for years," Alastair told him as he fiddled with a few more things, making sure the suction cups were tight and attached by tubes to the machine, making sure Castiel was still chained firmly to the table. "I have just barely perfected it, or so I hope. You are my first true subject. You see, I always seek for ways to inflict true agony on a person." Alastair was circling him then, obviously enjoying his helplessness, his uncertainty.

"This particular machine was designed to suck the soul of out someone."

Castiel blanched despite himself. To suck someone's soul out? That was possibly the worst form of torture to be imagined. Souls were precious, they were what made an individual themselves, made them human. Castiel didn't want to think of the agony this would cause.

"However, you, being a fallen angel, and therefor having no soul, might react a bit differently," Alastair continued, undisguised glee in his eyes. "I can only assume it will suck the grace out of you instead—what little you have left, that is."

Castiel's breath caught in his throat. Alastair obviously saw the fear in his eyes and he smiled, leaning over the table.

"So wherever it is you go to when I torture you, whoever it is you imagine, you had best say goodbye," the demon sneered. "There is nowhere you can hide from this."

Castiel trembled slightly, eyes following the demon as he went back to the machine and flicked a switch. It rumbled to life, whirring and clanking with gears. Alastair turned to his captive as his hand touched a dial.

"For our first try I'll do it on the lowest setting. That way we can have something to measure future sessions by." He cranked the dial to one.

Castiel had no time to brace before the agony came, tearing through his body. There was no way for him to clear his mind enough to get to his safe spot, he could think of nothing, but the sheer, mind-numbing pain. The feeling of having his very essence torn out of him. The only thing he could concentrate on was not shaming himself by screaming. He held on somehow, straining against his chains, as grunts escaped his throat.

And then finally, Alastair turned off the machine and stood by, watching with interest as Castiel collapsed limply back onto the table, panting for breath, his body completely wrecked, feeling as if it had been burned from the inside out. He glanced over to the machine and saw a glass container on one side, the bottom of it shimmering with blue-white angelic grace.

Alastair was already taking notes and he gazed down at Castiel, a pleased look on his face at the results.

"It seems to work exactly the way I'd hoped. Better actually. Someday we will go higher, perhaps to five or six, but I'm not sure what that would do to you, with your lack of grace, so for now, we'll leave it at this. Do tell me, how did this make you feel? And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest."

Castiel couldn't speak if he wanted to. The only thing he could do was let out a defeated sob, tears streaming from his eyes.

Alastair made a note in his book. "Interesting."

* * *

 _Cas suddenly shifted violently and moaned_. Meg set the book aside and bent over him, cradling his face between her hands.

"Cas?"

He was trembling, even though his body was covered in sweat.

Dean came into the room, a concerned look on his face, his hair mussed from sleep.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

Meg shook her head. "He's been twitching off an on, but this is the most I've gotten out of him yet."

Cas moaned and turned his head to one side. Meg replaced the cloth on his brow with a fresh, cool one.

Dean settled the back of his hand on the angel's cheek and frowned. "He's burning up. His fever must be up five degrees from the last time I checked."

Meg nodded in agreement. "I can't seem to get it down."

"Dammit," Dean muttered.

They sat with Cas for a while, tending to him, until he calmed down again, just as still as he had been before.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm gonna go back and help Sam. We've got to get to the bottom of this before he gets any worse."

Meg nodded in wordless agreement, and as soon as Dean left, she resumed her position with his head in her lap, soothing his brow. "You're not gonna die on me that easy, Clarence," she whispered.

* * *

 _Lucifer sat in his study, looking over itineraries for the coming celebrations._ It would only be two weeks now before the wedding and, more importantly, before he was crowed king.

Azazel came into the room, and he looked up from his papers, motioning his general over to the desk.

"Azazel, how is my kingdom?" he asked.

"Wary, my lord," the yellow-eyed demon replied truthfully. "But perhaps also looking forward to the festivities."

"Perfect," Lucifer smiled. "And any more progress with the prisoner, Castiel?"

Azazel smiled. "Alastair tested out his new machine on him last night. He is very close to breaking."

"Good," Lucifer said, then with a long pause, he turned back to his general. "Oh, by the way, Azazel, I heard whispers of a rebel plot to kill my bride on our wedding night."

"That would be a terrible tragedy, my Lord," Azazel replied blandly.

"Quite," Lucifer said. "You said before you believe most of the rebel faction hides in the Thieves' Quarter outside the city?"

"I believe so."

"Then I want it cleared, before the wedding. It would be a shame if there was any…unwanted interference."

Azazel smiled and nodded. "It will be done, my lord Lucifer."

"See that it is," Lucifer told him and watched Azazel leave. He turned back to his paperwork and smiled to himself. Everything was going perfectly to plan.

XXX

 _Dean Winchester slumped at a table in the corner of a grungy tavern._ He had lost count of how many drinks he'd had, but it didn't matter. He couldn't care less if he ever left this place. Everything was pointless now.

After he had been defeated by the man in black up on top of the Cliffs, he and found Sam, thankfully still alive as well, and they had rushed off to find out what had happened to Crowley. Only to find him dead as a doornail. And the last hope Dean ever had to getting revenge for his parents with him.

Sam had tried to assure him they would find another way, but he didn't want to listen. He had simply brushed his brother aside, and spent most of the weeks since in the tavern. Drinking himself into oblivion.

"Dean!"

"Go 'way," he muttered, half slumped over the table, and not in any way wanting to move, if he even could.

"Dean, come on," Sam pleaded, grabbing his arm and trying to get him to his feet. "Lucifer has ordered his men to clear the Quarter, we have to leave now."

"I don't care, let, 'em come," Dean growled.

"No, you don't understand," Sam hissed, leaning into Dean's face. "He sent his general—Dean…it's _him_."

The words were filtering through Dean's inebriated head slowly. "What?"

"Lucifer's general," Sam repeated, "is the Yellow-Eyed Demon."

Dean was still for a long moment, and then he threw the cup he had been drinking from to the ground with a crash, grabbing Sam by the front of his cloak and nearly yanking him off his feet.

"Lucifer's general? This whole damn time?" Dean demanded. "Let me at him!" He tried to get to his feet, but simply collapsed in a drunken heap on the ground. Sam barely caught him before he smashed his face into the floor.

"Dean, you're in no condition to fight him now—and that's putting it mildly. Plus you have no weapon that can kill him. Come on, let's get out of here, and we can figure out what to do."

And with that Dean felt everything slipping away from him. Every hope he had ever had to live a normal life, every hope that he'd had to at least avenge the deaths of their mother and father, to avenge what that bastard had done to his brother…and now that he had finally found the Yellow-Eyed Demon, he had no way to kill him.

He could only lean on his brother as Sam practically carried him out of the tavern, to their own cabin in the woods, far enough away and hidden so that Lucifer's men wouldn't find them, and collapsed into his bed the instant Sam got him close enough. He was done, with everything.

He felt Sam taking his boots off, and pulling a blanket over him. "We'll get him, Dean. We'll find a way."

But Dean was already unconscious, slipping into the only oblivion that held any peace for him.

XXX

 _It was days before the celebrations now._ The whole kingdom was busy preparing for the festivities, if not entirely willingly. Lucifer's demons had cleared the Thieves' Quarter, so that, as he said, there would be no 'interruptions'.

Sam Winchester nursed his brother back to health, coaxing him to get back on his feet in order to find a way to get their revenge.

Meanwhile, Castiel faded at Alastair's hands, as the demon continued to suck out his grace with the machine, leaving him weaker and weaker, and more and more despairing at ever seeing Meg again. At ever getting out of the Pit.

Meg did her duty at the palace, endured long sessions of fittings from the seamstress who was making her wedding gown. She still had nightmares, so she hardly slept at all, and worse, there had been no word from Castiel. Not even a letter, not even a sign that he had made it to his ship and the other rebels.

Eventually, she could take it no longer. With the wedding looming only days away, she knew she had to do something. It would make sense to strike during the festivities, and she didn't want to make plans that would interfere with any others. If only she and Castiel had had more time to plan before she was taken back to the palace. She knew she would at least be allotted privacy with Lucifer on the wedding night, so she thought that would be the best time to strike. But without the blade Castiel had that could kill the Prince, it was as good as pointless.

So she swept into Lucifer's office one afternoon only days from the wedding, with one last desperate attempt to make this plan work.

"My lord, I need to ask a favor of you," she began.

"Of course, my love," Lucifer said, with only some mockery in his voice. "Whatever you wish."

"I need to ask leave for one day," she told him. "I will be back before the festivities."

"Why?" he asked blandly.

"It's a personal matter."

"Is it?" Lucifer said, standing up from the desk and walking around it to face her, towering over her smaller figure. "The kingdom is on the brink of rebellion, you yourself were kidnapped, and it is only days away from our wedding. Personal matters don't cut it, my dear. You are not leaving this castle."

"You can't keep me here," she said firmly. "I agreed to marry you, but that does not make me yours to do with as you wish."

She saw the flash in his eyes a second before he took her around the throat and thrust her back against the wall. He leaned in close as Meg choked on a cry, her hands clawing at his.

"I own you, Princess, and you had best remember it," he said. "Why should I trust you?"

"I've never given you reason not to trust me," she gasped out.

"Nor have you given me reason _to_ trust you," he snarled. "You get kidnapped by rebels, and end up with some strange fallen angel who supposedly saved you in passing, but that you seem overly familiar with. Then you come back here, not at all shaken about what happened to you."

"What can I say, I don't scare easy," she said.

"Which is exactly why I don't trust you," Lucifer growled.

"Do what you want with me then," she said boldly. "It makes no difference in the end. You know I'll never love you."

"You're a foolish woman if that's what you think this is all about. You know very well, that was never part of this arrangement."

Meg smiled. "Perhaps I am foolish—never to have said before that I believe you to be nothing but a coward. A scared little boy who needs to demand allegiance from his people by breaking them down because he knows he is not half the man his father was."

Lucifer's eyes hardened, flashing red with anger. He threw Meg harshly against the wall.

"What did you say to me?" he demanded.

"I said you were a coward," Meg told him, climbing to her feet and standing bolding against him. "And you know it too."

"I would not say such things, if I were you," Lucifer told her coldly before he lunged forward and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her after him as he stormed down the hall. "You will regret this, Princess! I promise you that you will regret this."

"Like I said before, do what you want with me," Meg snarled at him as he opened the door to her chambers. "My angel will come for me."

"I wouldn't count on that," Lucifer snarled and threw her to the floor, then slammed the door and locked it.

He turned on his heel and stormed straight out of the palace toward the far end of the grounds where the Pit of Despair stood.

He threw open the door and thundered down the stairs.

Alastair sat at a desk, working on his writing, as Castiel was still laid out on the table and attached to The Machine. The angel looked up weakly with little interest as Lucifer stormed in. Alastair was standing from his desk.

"My lord," he greeted but Lucifer ignored him, heading straight for the fallen angel, leaning over the table.

"I have never in my life seen a demon show as much devotion to anyone as your Princess does to you," Lucifer snarled. "She actually labors under the delusion that you could be happy together. And that is why you must die, so I can truly break her."

He turned to The Machine and cranked the dial all the way up.

"Not to fifty!" Alastair cried.

But it was too late, the contraption was already working. Castiel's body went rigid, as his grace was violently torn from his body. The whole area began to glow, and Castiel screamed like he never had before, his angelic voice breaking past his human vocal chords to pierce the air. Lucifer watched the light go out of the angel's eyes with cruel satisfaction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay guys, we're coming down to it! Only one chapter after this one.**

Chapter Five

Castiel suddenly cried out, and thrashed against Meg's ministrations. She cursed and tried to reposition him so that he wouldn't hurt either of them, but his thrashing turned into full body shuddering and she realized he was going into a seizure.

"Sam, Dean!" she cried. "Help!"

The hunters ran into the room and instantly rushed to the bed to help her to hold him down. Dean ripped off his belt and shoved it between Castiel's teeth to keep him from biting his tongue. The three of them spent several tense moments, helplessly trying to keep Cas still, unable to do anything else but ride out the seizure and then finally the shuddering turned to trembling, before he fell limp again with only a twitch here and there.

"Dammit," Dean muttered, gently taking the belt from Cas' mouth and running a hand tiredly over his face. "He's getting worse."

"His fever's way over anything a human could survive. It's no wonder even he's having seizures," Meg said tiredly, absently running her fingers through Castiel's sweat-soaked hair.

"I…actually may have found something," Sam said hesitantly. "But it's a long shot, and I'm gonna need to look into it more before we try it."

"Then do that," Dean said firmly. "I'll help. Because if we don't figure something out soon…"

"We're losing him," Meg said quietly.

The three of them were silent for a long moment but didn't contradict her. They all could tell how bad this was.

"I'll grab some ice packs, try to get his fever down a little," Dean said. "Then we hit the books. Even if it is a long shot…"

"It might be the only one we have, I know," Sam replied quietly. He turned to Meg and put a hand on her shoulder. "You still okay here?"

"I'll be better when you find a cure," she said truthfully.

"Agreed," Dean said and he and Sam hurried out again.

Later when Cas had been cocooned in ice packs, and Sam and Dean began to work on collecting the stuff for the spell Sam had found, Meg, without anything else to do, picked up the book once again.

"Just don't die on me, Clarence," she whispered as she continued the story.

* * *

 _Sam Winchester spent the week before the festivities_ patiently nursing his brother back to health. He had not seen Dean like this since their father's death, but he wasn't really surprised either. It was a cruel irony after all to find out that the demon who had killed their parents, the one they had been hunting all these years, had been right under their nose the whole time. And on top of that, finding out just after they had lost the only person who could get them what they needed to enact their revenge. Crowley may have been a low-life demon, but he'd had the means for their revenge and that had made working for him worth it.

But the day before the kingdom's official anniversary, after many long days of doing nothing but cursing and grunting at his brother through Sam's patient ministrations, Dean, finally sober, spoke as they sat and ate the stew Sam had made for their supper.

"We need to find the man in black," he said.

Sam was almost so startled to hear Dean speak clearly that he didn't catch what he said at first. "What?"

"The man in black, the one who beat both of us and killed Crowley," Dean told him. "He'll know how to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon."

"How?" Sam demanded.

"Come on, Sammy, no one gets the drop of both of us like that. No one. He wasn't just another hunter, or rebel, he had to be a fallen angel. Which means he'll have something that can kill high ranking demons, or else know where to find a weapon like that."

Sam mulled this over. "How do you know he'll help us?"

"Because he's definitely not with Lucifer," Dean said. "In fact, I think he was only out there for one thing. The princess."

Sam's eyes widened but he nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, so how do we find him then? The princess ended up back at the palace, so he's either long gone, or, more likely, Lucifer killed him."

"He wouldn't kill him," Dean said certainly. "If he's anywhere, he's in that Pit Lucifer keeps his prisoners in."

"Dean, we could never get in there," Sam protested.

"Why not? It's never guarded, no one even goes near there."

"Yeah, for good reason," Sam said.

Dean leaned over the table, looking him in the eyes. "Sammy, this isn't only a way to get our revenge, this is a chance to put a stop to _all_ of this. We get him, we can take out the Yellow-Eyed Demon, and we can take out Lucifer all at once. Free the Kingdom."

Sam hesitated, but the more he thought about it he had to admit that the plan, desperate though it might be, was a good one. "Okay. You're right."

"Great," Dean said, some life finally coming back into his face. "Let's go find ourselves an angel."

XXX

 _That was what brought them to the town,_ making their way through it, past all the stalls being set up for the festivities to the back of the palace ground that butted against the woods, when the scream was heard.

It was a scream that was partly human and partly not, something ringing and powerful and yet obviously from a being in the purest of agony. Sam and Dean stopped with the rest of the townspeople to listen.

"Dean," Sam said urgently, grabbing his brother's arm. "That scream…it's…"

"It has angelic frequency in it," Dean said grimly. "Come on, we have to hurry."

They raced through the crowds as the scream began to die. It could be heard all over the kingdom.

Meg, in her chambers, heard it and even though she wasn't sure what it was it filled her with such coldness, that she was chilled to the bone.

Sam and Dean reached the entrance to the pit long after the scream had died down. They saw a demon with a wheelbarrow trundling toward the entrance and Dean spent no time in rushing over, pressing a blade to the demons' throat.

"Talk if you want to live," he growled. "Where is the fallen angel?"

The demon just shook his head, cackling.

Sam stepped forward and Dean looked up at him regrettably as his brother focused on his powers and clenched a fist. The demon cried out and collapsed to the ground, eyes smoking. Sam cringed.

"Um, guess I tried a little too hard."

Dean kicked the body. "Great, now we have no way of figuring this out."

"He'll be down there," Sam said with surety, nodding to the small, innocuous hut that led to the Pit.

Dean shook his head but followed his brother.

Once they got to the bottom though, his worst fears were confirmed as they saw the still body of the man in black lying out on a table, not even chained anymore. His body was covered in bruises and cuts, and his skin was pale as snow. They knew he was dead before Sam even checked for a heartbeat.

"Dammit," Dean said breathlessly reading up to clench his hands in his hair. "We're too late."

Sam turned to hide the despair in his own eyes, studying the strange machine that was standing next to the table. There was a vial attached to it that contained a blue glowing substance. Sam furrowed his brow and detached it, tucking it into his coat pocket. He didn't know what exactly it was, but he thought they might need it later.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said quietly.

"No," Dean said firmly. "No, we're not giving up that easy." He turned to a table in the corner of the room, where the demons looked to have thrown the angel's belongings. Dean gathered the bundle of clothes and weapons, throwing the shirt at Sam. "Help me get him dressed. How much money do you have?"

Sam frowned but helped Dean get the rest of the angel's clothes on his limp body. "Um, not much…"

"Well, whatever we have it will have to do," Dean said. "Bring the body."

"What? Dean, what are we doing?" Sam demanded.

"We're gonna go buy a miracle," Dean said, bundling the angel's coat and his weapons up into his pack. "It's about damn time we got one of those."

XXX

 _They approached the ramshackle hut,_ Dean with determination, Sam with a little reservation, the angel's body slung over his shoulders.

Dean knocked on the door rapidly, and a gruff, angry voice from inside called. "Just hold on a second, would ya? Don't break the damn door down!"

It wasn't long before a grumpy, grizzled face appeared, angry, until he recognized the two hunters on his door, then he turned _surprised_ as well as angry. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded.

"Bobby, listen," Dean tried, but the older man cut him off.

"No, you listen! I told your daddy years ago that your kind was not welcome here. You only bring trouble, and there's enough of that to go around lately. Now get."

The older man began to close the door, but Dean stepped forward, stopping it with his boot and practically pushing his way inside. "Please, Bobby, it's important."

"What, you need my help burying a body?" Bobby asked wryly, glancing suspiciously past Dean to Sam who had the angel draped over his shoulders.

"Bobby," the younger man tried in a calmer voice. "This man, he's a fallen angel. We need him to help us to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon."

"You found him?" Bobby asked with some interest, cocking his brow.

"Yeah, we did," Dean said. "Lucifer's general, Azazel."

"Well, I'll be dammed, this whole time." Bobby said. He was silent for a long minute and then finally heaved a sigh and opened his door. "Alright, fine, but this is a one time thing, and only because I want that son of a bitch as dead as you do. Let me see what I can do for you."

"Thank you, Bobby," Dean said, relief welling inside of him.

"Don't thank me yet, idjit. I make no promises I'll be able to bring him back to life."

They followed the older man into the hut and Sam and Dean laid the angel's body out on the table that Bobby cleared for the purpose.

Bobby inspected the body for a couple minutes, as Sam and Dean stood back and watched, Dean trying not to show his impatience.

"Well, the good thing is, he ain't completely dead," Bobby said after a while of poking and prodding.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"He's only mostly dead," Bobby replied unhelpfully.

"How is that possible?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know, you tell me," Bobby snarked. "Fact is, though, that I can't bring someone back unless they want to be. It's not just magic that goes into this kind of hoodoo, there's a good bit of strength and determination from the dead party as well."

"We need him," Dean said.

"Yeah, and that ain't his call. you can't speak for him on this."

Dean grunted and ran his hands through his hair. "Dammit, we're running out of time!"

"Hey, you rush me, you're gonna get a lousy miracle," Bobby snapped. "Now hush up, I'm gonna ask him."

He put a hand on the angel's head and closed his eyes. After a long moment, Bobby said, "Hey, if you're in there, tell us why you want to come back. If you do, that is, and it's not just these two idjits who need you as backup."

Bobby's hand glowed slightly, and the angel's lips parted, letting out two words that were barely a whisper but could be easily heard by everyone.

" _True love."_

Sam and Dean looked at each other, eyes wide.

Bobby sighed. "Alright, well, I guess that's answer enough. I've got a spell that should work, but the problem is, this angel has no grace, and I can't bring him back without it."

"What the hell is grace?" Dean demanded.

Sam felt something warm in his coat pocket then and with a frown, he reached into it and pulled out the glowing vial he had taken from the machine in the Pit. "Is…that what this is?"

Bobby's eyes widened. "Yeah, looks like it."

Dean's eyes widened as well and Sam shrugged as he handed it over.

"Okay," Bobby said. "Give me an hour or so to work this up. Then you should have one angelic reanimation spell."

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said sincerely.

Bobby just grunted and set to work.

An hour and a little bit later, Bobby handed them a glass jar with the spell in it, glowing from the angel's grace.

"It might not work immediately. He'll probably be weak for a while, but it will bring him back whole eventually," the older hunter told him.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said. "Um, we have money…"

Bobby waved a hand in dismissal. "Keep it. I probably owe your dad something anyway, bastard that he was. If this will help avenge your parents' deaths, then we'll call it even."

The brothers thanked him and Sam slung the angel over his shoulders again, as they left the hut.

"Hey," Bobby called to them before they disappeared. "You idjits have fun storming the castle."

Sam and Dean nodded and then continued on, a new hope in their hearts that this would actually work.

* * *

" _Okay, well, this is it," Sam said as he came into the room_ , seeming still not entirely confident. "This is a counter spell to the closest symptoms I could find, and, well, there's still no guarantee it will work on an angel."

Meg looked down at Cas, who shuddering again after another bout of seizers, his jaw clenched as if in pain. "It will have to work."

Sam nodded and set the bowl of items on the desk. "Okay, then, let's do this."

He mixed the ingredients, chanted the short spell, and then, with a poof, the antidote settled into a liquid in the bottom of the bowl. Sam poured it carefully into a cup and handed it to Meg.

Dean slipped an arm under Cas' shoulders and propped his limp body upright as Meg pressed the cup to his lips. The first little bit she dribbled in, simply dripped out the side of his mouth, and Meg cursed before she tried again, stroking Cas' forehead.

"Come on, Clarence, it's time to take your medicine. Be a good boy now."

Amazingly the next time she pressed the cup to his lips, he took it, and swallowed slowly. It took a while for him to drink all of it but when it was finally gone, Dean lowered him back against the pillows and wiped his face with a cloth.

The three of them simply watched the angel for a long moment, holding their breaths, but there was no change.

"There was no indication as to how long it will take to work," Sam said helplessly, looking over the book again.

Dean wordlessly pulled two chairs over to the side of the bed. "Then we'll all wait it out. See if it does anything."

Meg took Castiel's hand in hers and squeezed, silently begging, praying, for him to get through this. But until then, she continued reading the story.

* * *

 _Sam and Dean Winchester hauled the body of the fallen angel up to a hiding spot_ on the walls outside the palace grounds where they could more easily watch the proceedings, and figure out their plan of attack.

"Lucifer's put extra gate guards up," Dean muttered. "I wonder what he's planning."

"Nothing good," Sam said, a thoughtful frown between his brows as he too stared down. "It looks like he has about twenty guards at the gate alone."

"We've had odds like that before," Dean said, and nodded to the limp body they had propped against the wall. "And we've got him."

Sam gave him a longsuffering expression. "And you need to get in to kill Azazel. Which leaves me to hold them off long enough for you to do that."

"Sam…"

"I can do it, and you know it," Sam said, jaw tight.

Dean watched him for a long moment and then nodded, even though he didn't look happy about it. "Alright, but after this, if everything goes to plan, I promise you'll never have to use your powers again."

Sam nodded, eyes somewhat wet, before he reached into his coat and pulled out the glowing vial of potion Bobby had given them. "Well, it's now or never."

Dean took the vial and opened it. Sam tipped the angel's head back and Dean pressed the vial to his lips. It flowed down his throat and almost instantly the angel's eyes opened, flashing blue, before rapidly flying to each side, taking in his surroundings.

"What are you doing here? Where am I?" the angel demanded.

"You're safe, we're not going to hurt you," Sam said, holding out a hand.

Castiel looked down at himself seeming to be concentrating on something intently. "Why won't my arms move?" he asked after a moment.

"Best guess? Because you've been mostly dead all day," Dean said briskly, then leaned in toward the angel. "Look, I hate to dump all of this on you now, but we don't have a lot of time. The wedding is going to start in only a couple hours, and the coronation is due tomorrow morning. If we don't stop Lucifer tonight, we won't get another chance."

"Meg," Castiel whispered.

"And your girl's gonna be married to that bastard, I know," Dean said. "So you see the importance of doing this now."

Castiel sighed, and tried to glance over the wall. "How many guards."

"At least twenty," Sam said. "But we've got it figured out. You'll go in with Dean, he'll kill Azazel, you can find the Princess, and then we'll figure out a way to kill Lucifer."

"I have a way," Castiel replied, his head slumping slightly. "I hope you saved my coat."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said quickly and grabbed the bundle from his pack, putting it in the angel's lap before Castiel gave him a longsuffering look.

"Sorry." Dean opened it up and revealed the inside to be full of pockets where various weapons were held.

"That," Castiel said, nodding to a blade. Dean reached over and slid it out, hefting its weight. It was short, but the blade was spiraled almost like a corkscrew and looked to be a vicious thing.

"This will kill Lucifer?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Castiel replied tiredly.

Dean slid it back into the coat. "Okay, then, I guess we have a mission to see through."

"Fantastic," Castiel replied, shifting slightly. "Now I would appreciate it if you could get me on my feet and help me get that coat on."

XXX

 _Meg stood still as her lady's maid helped her into the elaborate wedding dress_ the royal seamstress had spent all week making. She didn't know what to do. She'd still had no word from Castiel, and therefor, no way to kill Lucifer. But somehow she was certain that he would get there in time. And he would not only save her, but he would save the kingdom too.

Once she had finished dressing, she stood looking out the window, again, wishing nothing more than to be miles, oceans away with her angel, the two of them together in peace. But she also knew there was no way to have that unless they took down Lucifer.

Speak of the devil himself, there came a knock on the door, and the Prince slipped inside her room.

"Excited for tonight, darling?" he asked, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Should I be?" Meg replied, turning lazily.

"It's customary for a bride to be excited on her wedding day."

She smiled, knowing he missed nothing. "And for political arrangements as well? Unless you want me to pretend for the moment that I am not in fact a prisoner here."

Lucifer encroached upon her personal space, but Meg refused to move or be cowed. "If you could, for the sake of the people," he said, as he reached out and stroked one finger down her cheek to her throat, where he wrapped a gentle yet warning hand around her neck. "Do not forget that you belong to me."

"Continue to think that, if it makes you feel better," Meg said and pulled away. "Now you should leave. Is it not supposedly bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?"

Lucifer's fists clenched by his sides, but there was still a smile on his face. "Of course, my dear. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Then he turned and locked the door once again behind him.

Meg slumped into a chair. "Where are you, Clarence?" she whispered.

XXX

 _The crowds were gathering for the wedding,_ and the three men, two hunters and a fallen angel, slipped in, cloaked and hooded, among the others. The people, of course, would not be witness to the actual ceremony, for that would happen in the palace itself, but as soon as the Prince and Princess emerged, happily married, the celebrations and feasting would begin, and they all looked forward to that.

However, that would do the heroes no good, for they needed to stop the wedding entirely, and find the carefully interred Lucifer and his General and do away with them.

"There's more than twenty men there," Dean said as they concealed themselves behind a cart, watching the main gate of the palace.

Sam squared his jaw. "We'll still be able to get through."

"Not without help," Castiel said. He still could barely stand, but he was making do. He had to. If he could not get to Meg, stop the wedding, and kill Lucifer, then everything would be for naught, and he could not allow that to happen. He had promised to come for her, and he would do so.

He turned to the older hunter. "Do you have any holy oil in your possession?"

Dean frowned, and reached into his pack, pulling out a jug. "Yes."

"Good," Castiel said. "I suggest we give ourselves an extra distraction. Light this cart on fire and send it in first."

Sam and Dean shared a look and nodded.

Castiel struggled to pull something from his coat and passed the item wrapped in leather over to Dean. "This is what you need to kill a demon general. But shoot true. There're only two bullets left."

Dean took the item and unwrapped it, eyes widening as he saw what it was.

"Is this…?" he couldn't form more words than that. Castiel nodded once.

"I thought it was a legend," Sam said, reaching out to touch the barrel of the gun almost reverently.

"It is real, and it will work," Castiel assured them.

Dean looked into his eyes, gratified. "Thank you."

"You saved my life, and I want Azazel as dead as you do," Castiel replied simply.

Dean clasped his shoulder and then turned to Sam with a nod. "Let's do this."

Within a few minutes, they had thrown straw and garbage into the cart, and soaked all of it with the holy oil. Then they began to push it toward the gates. Or rather, Sam and Dean pushed it, Castiel mainly tried to stay upright.

"Ho there!" one of the guards called. "What are you doing with that? Get that away from here?"

"Light it," Dean muttered.

Sam struck a match and dropped it into the cart as they gave it a final push. The cart flew down the slight incline toward the gathered demons and they cried out, trying to get out of the way. Some succeeded, other didn't and were caught by burning debris as fiery bombs flew from the cart on impact.

"Go!" Sam shouted to Dean and Castiel, throwing his cloak off and rolling his shoulders in anticipation. "I'll hold them off!"

Dean gave one nod to his brother, before throwing Castiel's arm over his shoulders and hurrying forward through the confused demons. He killed several on the way, but they got to the gate and found one final guard there. Castiel struck with an underhanded blow, and the demon crumpled to the ground, with a cry of pain. Dean knelt and unceremoniously ripped the key from the guard's belt, thrusting it into the gate.

"Sam!" he cried, looking back.

The younger hunter stood surrounded by demons, his hands spread wide, the demons halting against their will. Then he clenched his hands into fists and there were gasps of agony from the demons as they began to writhe in place.

"Go!" Sam grunted, eyes squeezed shut. "Go Dean! I'll follow!"

Dean spared one last look at his brother, before he hauled Castiel into the palace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay guys this is the last chapter! Thanks to everyone who read, followed and reviewed this! I'm glad you guys liked this kind of strange story :P**

 **I've got a one-shot coming friday for you too :)**

Chapter Six

Meg was escorted to the ceremony by Azazel himself, and at this point, she didn't want to admit to herself that she was beginning to worry slightly. They were coming down to the wire here, and Castiel still hadn't shown up. She really didn't want to have to get married to Lucifer after all.

They reached the chapel and Lucifer met her at the door as organ music started up. To Meg it sounded like a dirge. Lucifer took her hand and kissed the back of it with a mocking air.

"My bride," he said.

"My captor," she replied but smiled all the same, putting on a good show, just like he wanted.

Lucifer tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked down the aisle to where the kingdom's clergyman-cum-scribe (for Lucifer was not particularly keen on religion) Metatron, waited to perform the ceremony. With almost a mocking solemnity, Lucifer knelt, pulling Meg down beside him.

"Marriage," the clergyman said once the music stopped. "Marriage is what brings us together today. That blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream…"

That was when noises began to be heard from outside. At first people seemed determined to ignore them, but after a while, they grew in volume and desperation. Sounds, and cries and the echoes of fighting.

The scribe halted.

"Don't stop," Lucifer growled.

The scribe shrugged and continued the ceremony.

A crash sounded from outside them, and Lucifer turned to Azazel and nodded. The Yellow-Eyed Demon left, almost with a relieved look, and snapped his fingers at his guards.

Meg smiled to herself.

"Why do you look so pleased?" Lucifer demanded under his breath.

"Because my angel came for me after all," she told him, knowing it would not matter now whether he knew.

Lucifer surprised her by smirking slightly. "Your angel is dead. I killed him myself."

"Then why is there uncertainty in your eyes?" Meg asked.

"Hello, are you going to listen to this ceremony or not?" Metatron demanded.

"Skip to the end, let's have done with this," Lucifer snapped.

The scribe heaved a sigh. "Fine. Do you have the rings?"

XXX

 _Dean and Castiel hurried through the palace_. It was deserted, all the servants busy preparing for the feast that would be held after the wedding, and the guards all rushing to aid the others who were being slaughtered at the gate.

That was until the sound of pounding boots was heard and several more guards came around the corner, along with a man in ornate military clothes, a blade still hanging by his side. He stopped behind the guards, and when Dean looked up at him, he saw yellow eyes.

They both stared at each other. Azazel smiled.

"Kill them," he said.

Dean released Castiel who slumped against an ornate table in the hallway and drew his blade, making short work of the demons that charged him. Then it was only Azazel standing there.

With a trembling hand, Dean reached into his coat, and pulled out the gun that Castiel had given him, raising it and cocking it in one smooth motion.

"Hello," he said quietly. "My name is Dean Winchester. You killed my mother and my father. Prepare to die."

Azazel turned and ran before Dean could get the shot off.

"No," he said under his breath, rage boiling inside of him as he watched his enemy fleeing.

"Dean, go!" Castiel said firmly, holding himself up against the wall. "I will see to the rest, do not lose him!"

Dean might have hesitated leaving anyone in Castiel's condition under normal circumstances, but this was too important an opportunity to lose. So without a backward glance, he barreled after the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

Castiel, on the other hand, had another mission and, slowly, painstakingly, he made his way further into the palace.

XXX

 _Lucifer shoved the ring onto Meg's finger_ , as more sounds of fighting, and the screams of demons could be heard permeating the ceremony. He was getting worried now, Meg could see it in his eyes.

The scribe was taking his time. "And do you, Princess Meg…"

"Man and wife!" Lucifer snarled at him. "Just say man and wife, be done with it!"

The scribe gave him a look, but complied. "Fine. Man and wife."

Lucifer was on his feet instantly, yanking Meg to hers as well and throwing her toward the last of the guards in the room. "Take her to the honeymoon suit." And then he was gone, rushing off in some ill attempt to save his kingdom.

XXX

 _Dean barreled down the corridor after the fleeing demon,_ his heart pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts. He couldn't believe this. He'd been waiting for this moment for years, and now the Yellow-Eyed Demon thought he could just _run away from him._

And then they ended up in a storage room near the kitchens and Dean knew he had his emeny cornered now. He heard Azazel's footsteps come to a halt, and Dean was around the corner in a second, gun raised, his hunter's instincts telling him exactly where to aim before he even saw the demon.

He took another step and squeezed the trigger…

A dagger flew out of nowhere, and buried itself into his gut. The shot went wide, slamming into the back wall of the room. Dean slumped against the wall, the gun slipping from his limp hand in shock as he watched Azazel smile at him.

And all he could think of was how badly he had failed. "Sorry, Dad," he whispered.

Azazel chuckled as he came toward Dean and kicked the dropped gun away from his reach. "You, I know you now. You're the elder Winchester boy. The one of no consequence. Have you been chasing me all this time, only to fail now?"

The look in Dean's eyes told the demon the truth, and he smiled, eating it up. "I think that's the worst thing I've ever heard. How marvelous. I'm going to enjoy taking you apart."

XXX

 _Meg was dragged to Lucifer's chambers_ , though she put up a good fight. The demons were under orders though, and they took the blows she dealt silently, before they simply opened the door and shoved her inside, locking it behind her.

"Cowards!" she screamed, kicking the door for good measure.

"You can't really blame them. You are quite a force to be reckoned with when you want to be."

Meg spun, and there, lying on the bed, was Castiel. He looked a bit rough, his clothes torn in places, but his eyes were still bright blue, and he was smiling.

She threw herself at him.

"Castiel," she breathed, and instantly set to kissing his face, his cheeks, his lips.

"Gently," he warned.

"Come on, Clarence, I haven't seen you for weeks and that's all you give me?" she chided.

"Ah, gently!" He winced, and she realized finally that he was mostly lying limp on the bed and she scooted to one side, hand pressed to his chest as he turned to look at her a bit wryly.

"Castiel, what happened to you?" she asked worriedly, stroking his cheek more gently.

"Another time," he assured her. "That is not important now. We need to find Lucifer."

"Dammit," Meg muttered to herself, glancing down at her finger and ripping the wedding ring off of it. "I can't believe I actually married that bastard."

"Did you say 'I do'?" Castiel asked simply.

Meg shrugged. "Lucifer kind of had him skip that part."

"Well, whether or not it's binding, rest assured, you shall be a widow before the night is done," Castiel said with a small smile, and pulled his coat aside to show her the blade resting at his hip.

Meg's eyes widened but as she went to touch the hilt the door was flung open.

"Oh, will she?" Lucifer demanded, striding into the room. "Hello, darling," he said to Meg, his eyes flashing red.

XXX

 _Dean strained to get to his feet again_ , while Azazel watched with amusement, but Dean would be dammed if he died sitting on his ass. He pulled a blade from the back of his belt and held it out even as he slumped back against the wall. He rid himself of the dagger in his stomach, and pressed his hand against his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Oh, Dean, are you still trying to win?" Azazel mocked him.

Dean grunted, and fought against the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. Blood soaked his hand and over his wrist as he fought to press against his wound harder, choking back a whimper as agony tore through his core.

"You have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance," Azazel said, moving toward him with his own blade held at the ready. "It's going to get you into trouble some day."

Azazel struck, aiming straight for the hunter's heart, but Dean somehow managed to deflect the blow and direct it into his shoulder instead. He hardly noticed the new wound, mostly just trying to concentrate on keeping his feet under him.

Azazel, some annoyance showing on his face, struck again, and this time found his blade directed to Dean's other arm.

"Come now, Dean, just accept your fate and die without embarrassing yourself even more," Azazel snarled.

Dean surprised him by striking out quickly with the blade, forcing Azazel to jump back.

Dean began to push himself up off the wall, determination and pure stubbornness lending him strength.

"Hello," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "My name in Dean Winchester, you killed my mother and my father. Prepare to die." He wavered, having to catch himself on the edge of a table as his legs gave out. Azazel just stood staring at him as if not sure what to think.

Dean got himself upright again and continued toward the demon. "Hello," he said a little stronger, words forced past gritted teeth. "My name is Dean Winchester. You killed my mother and my father. Prepare to die."

He struck out now, and Azazel just barely caught the blade.

"Stop saying that!" the demon demanded obviously unnerved now by this human who refused to die.

Dean simply launched forward and stabbed the demon in the shoulder, mirroring his own injury. His strength was somehow returning and so this time he yelled it. "Hello! My name is Dean Winchester, you killed my mother and my father, prepare to die!"

"No!" Azazel shouted, and cried out as Dean's blade slashed him across the face.

"Make me a deal," Dean demanded, slashing his blade again.

"Yes, of course, all the money in the world," Azazel said, his yellow eyes flashing.

"Money, and power too?" Dean stabbed him in the thigh.

The demon winced. "Yes, and power, all that I have and more. Now please…"

"Offer me anything I want!" Dean demanded.

"Of course, just say the word!" Azazel shouted.

Dean was right where he needed to be. He raised a foot and kicked Azazel backwards so that the demon sprawled on the ground with a grunt. As he did, Dean reached to snatch the gun that Azazel had kicked away from him before.

"I want my parents back, you son of a bitch!" Dean screamed and fired.

There were sparks from the barrel as the bullet was expelled. Azazel could only stare as the final bullet came to its final resting place between his yellow eyes.

Those yellow eyes sparked for a second, as a strangled scream escaped the demon's throat and then he collapsed, dead, to the ground.

Dean stood there breathing heavily, and the pain set in then. He pressed his hand more firmly to his wound, and his legs trembled.

"Dean!"

The shout came right before arms caught Dean and kept him from falling to the ground, instead lowering him gently.

Dean looked up at the concerned eyes of his brother. There was blood dripping from Sam's nose, but he had done it, as he said he could. He had defeated all those demons with his cursed powers, and he had not lost himself.

"Oh god, you're hurt," Sam said, hands tugging at Dean's clothes, trying to see the wound.

"He's dead. I got 'im, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam glanced over at the demon's body, and his jaw clenched. "Yeah, you did, Dean. You did good."

His hands pressed at Dean's wound, tying a compression around it, but Dean waved him off once he had finished with that.

"I'll be fine for now. We have to find Castiel. We have to help him with Lucifer."

He knew Sam wanted to protest, but there was no way he could. Their mission was not over yet, not until the Prince was dead.

Sam stood, helping his brother to his feet, as they hurried off through the palace on one final mission.

XXX

 _Lucifer took the blade from his belt as soon as he came into the room_ , and he strode toward the bed where Castiel and Meg sat, dark anger on his face.

"You understand, Castiel, that I am not happy to find someone alive once I went through the trouble of killing them," he said. "Those that I kill should have the decency to stay dead."

"Yes, and yet, some of us are full of surprises," Castiel replied blandly. Meg slid her hand from under his coat, concealing the action from Lucifer with her body, as she instead put on the show of clutching Castiel to her.

Lucifer chuckled without humor. "So what will it be? Are you going to stand and fight me?"

"No, I thought I would just sit here quietly," Castiel told him.

Lucifer shook his head. "Have it your way. This actually rather makes my life easier. I was going to blame the Princess' tragic death on our wedding night on rebels who escaped into the night before I could lift my sword to do anything, but having your body here as well to back it up will make me look so much more heroic, don't you think?"

"I think you're nothing but a coward, as I said before," Meg told him. "I think you can bite me."

"Oh, I'll bite," Lucifer said and reached down to grab her by the throat and lift her from the bed, pressing her against his body. "But first I want you to watch as I kill your precious fallen angel. For good this time. That way I can see the hope fall from your eyes as you realize that there is no one coming to save you. However, since your beloved seems unable to move from the bed, a little taste of what is to come for you might not be amiss. I wouldn't want Castiel to miss out on that either." He raised his blade and pressed it to the corner of Meg's eye.

Meg snarled, but before Lucifer could continue, Castiel called,

"Hey, assbutt!"

Lucifer spun around in time to get a dagger in his upper arm. He let go of Meg, and pulled the blade out with a laugh.

"You poor pathetic fool," he said. "What did you think that would do to me? A simple dagger. You can't kill me with that—"

He stopped because another blade had just been shoved into his side, right under his heart, as he was turned aside.

"Maybe not," Meg hissed. "But this one can." She shoved the blade in further and Lucifer screamed. Meg stepped over to Castiel and the two held each other, turning their faces away as the Prince exploded in a brilliant blast of light.

When they turned back around, he was lying on the floor, eyes burned out, completely dead.

Meg and Castiel turned back toward each other, still clutching the other tightly.

"We did it," Meg whispered. "It's over."

Castiel leaned in to kiss her, when more footsteps sounded in the hallway and the door flew open. Meg and Castiel both raised weapons as two figures burst into the room, but lowered them again as they saw it was only Sam and Dean.

The two hunters stood staring at the body for a long second.

"He's dead?" Sam demanded.

Castiel slumped against Meg as she helped him to his feet. "Yes. It is over now. The kingdom is no longer under his oppression."

The four warriors stood there taking in that realization for a long moment before Castiel slumped further as he tried to take a step and Meg was forced to wrap her arms tighter around his waist. Dean also, was still bleeding out, and his adrenaline rush was waning, leaving him leaning further against his brother.

"We need to go, there might still be demons roaming the palace," Meg said.

"I found the stables," Sam said. "We can take some horses from there."

They exited the palace and hurried to the stables, where they mounted up and were away into the moonlit night.

They rode for a time, making sure they were far enough away from any pursuit that might come, and then finally, they stopped to take a breath, tend to their wounds, and bask in the fact that their troubles were, at least for the moment, over.

The sun rose on a new day. Dean had gotten revenge on the demon who killed his parents, and now Sam could have his brother back whole, and complete. They probably would continue to hunt, for the kingdom would still be in turmoil for a while, and people would always need saving, but that was what they had always done, and they weren't about to stop now.

As for Meg and Castiel, they would do exactly what they had planned all along. They would find a quiet place, far away from anyone and anywhere, and live out eternity in the bliss that they shared together.

But right now, they were perfectly content to simply hold each other and watch the sunrise. Then Castiel turned to her, and Meg turned to him. Words were not needed, as they simply reached for each other.

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five great kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one, shared between the demon and the fallen angel, left them all behind.

* * *

 _Meg watched Castiel breathe._ He had finally dropped into a peaceful sleep several hours ago, the fever burning its course, and the potion Sam had found obviously working. She had sent Sam and Dean to get some rest about an hour ago, since Castiel was out of danger, and there was nothing they could do now but wait for him to wake.

And he did, first his eyes fluttering, his mouth parting with a slight moan as his head shifted in Meg's lap, and then finally his eyes opened and he gazed up at her blearily.

"Meg?" he whispered.

And she couldn't help herself, she simply leaned over, took his face in her hands and kissed him, relief washing through her.

"Mm," Castiel protested weakly. "Gently."

Meg pulled back with a smile, stroking his forehead. "Sorry, Clarence. You know I can't help myself."

He smiled slightly, but glanced around the room, some confusion on his face. "What happened? I—I don't…"

"Witch hit you with a spell on a hunt," Meg told him. "You've been unconscious for over a day now."

Castiel frowned. "Oh," was all he said at first, looking down at his body as if somewhat confused, flexing his hands. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

Meg smiled perhaps too cavalierly. "I knew you'd pull through."

Castiel gave her a look, but she didn't want to tell him how bad it was just yet. She'd let him recover a little first. Besides, Sam and Dean would probably be sure to tell him just how worried they had been that he would die. Meg suppressed a shudder and slid off the bed.

"Let me get you something to drink," she told him and went to fetch a glass of water.

When she came back, she found Castiel with _The Princess Bride_ in his hands, staring at the cover with an odd look on his face.

"Here's your water," Meg told him, setting it on the bedside table. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head slightly. "I had a…strange dream…when I was unconscious. It…never mind." He motioned to the book. "What is this?"

Meg smiled and took it from him. "I was reading it to you while you were unconscious. It's one of my favorites."

Castiel smiled slightly up at her as he took the book back and ran a finger over the worn pages. "Considering how I'm feeling right now, I think it might be a few days before I am fully back to power. Would you…perhaps, read it to me again? This time so I can better appreciate it?"

Meg smiled and slid into the bed next to him, curling up against Cas and kissing him…this time more gently. "As you wish," she whispered into his ear.

The End


End file.
